


That One Time Where I Died and Got Reborn Into Another World

by Derae



Series: Tales of a Cat and a Crow [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst with a Happy Ending, Apparently I'm Writing a Door Stopper of a Fic, Backstory, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Growth, Coping, Death, Denial of Feelings, Depression, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family of Choice, Fantastic Racism, Fifth Blight (Dragon Age), Give Her a Mystery and Call Her Encyclopedia Brown, Growing Up, Hope, Isekai, Kallian's a Philosophy Nut, Losing Sight of Yourself, Love, Love at First Sight, Mental Health Issues, Mostly Canon Compliant, Nightmares, Overcoming Inner Demons, POV Alternating, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Powerlessness, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Self-Acceptance, Self-Hatred, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Suicidal Thoughts, Surrogate Siblings, Survivor Guilt, Tags Are Hard, Taoism, Tragedy, True Love, Wushu - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2020-06-27 19:02:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 60
Words: 406,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19797094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Derae/pseuds/Derae
Summary: After dying of illness she was reborn in another world because, apparently, gods are jerks. Somehow, she manages to get used to her new life, and tries to take things in stride. Well, until shit hit the fan and she got dragged into a crazy mess she's not sure of how to go about dealing with.Follow along as she meanders through life starting from a child to the events of the Fifth Blight, and as she tries not to be weirded out by absolutely everything that's happening while simultaneously fighting a losing battle against her own inner demons.





	1. How the Cat Lost Her First Life

**Author's Note:**

> I've been rolling this idea around for a bit, because I've been on a bit of an isekai binge. They always have super long titles and I'm not quite sure why it's necessary to include the entire summary in the title, but whatevs, they're fun.
> 
> Kalli-bby is back, but slightly different, and I'm exploring back stories a little more with this one... Soooo... Woop-woop?
> 
> It'll follow some? most? of the same trends as The Life and Times, because... I can't bring myself to make asshole-y decisions. It makes me feel like a monster whenever I do that, annnnnd I can't deal. lol.
> 
> Though that's basically a crappier version of this.

She hummed confusedly looking around a pure white space, with Mochi at her side. She squats down and ran her fingers through Mochi’s fur in an attempt to calm herself down. It worked, just like always, her doggo, her roommate, her bestie, anxiety dealt with, she tapped the side of her head with her left hand as she leaned her head on her dogs while patting at her side.

And so she began trying to remember what happened, and where she was…

She was… Wait… She immediately turned to look at her dog, as realization dawned upon her. Mochi had died, and she’d felt the loss so completely that she hated being in her own house. Everything reminded her of her— when she woke up, she moved to go let her out and feed her but had to constantly stop herself. Every time she went to the kitchen, she couldn’t help but expect to see her walking up to the door to be let in. It had hurt, and every time she tried to stop herself, she couldn’t help but remember finding her dead, and how her body felt as she pleaded for her to wake up. It still hurt.

“Were you… were you waiting for me?” she asked hugging her dog to her, moving back, she pinched her dog's cheeks, just like she’d always done in life.

“Indeed she was,” a voice said, causing her to jump out of her skin.

“So, I’m dead?” she asked.

“Yes,” the woman in front of her replied, “ah, sorry, white spaces like this are annoying to look at, let me populate the room a bit.”

“Then, what now?” she asked as the room changed around her. They were in an annoyingly extravagant looking room, with stained glass windows

“The circumstances in which you died were… unique… to say the least.”

“In what way?” she asked, “I was sick for a pretty long time.”

“The thing is… you shouldn’t have died from being sick in the first place.”

“…The hell is that supposed to mean? I was sick for two years!” she scratched her dog behind her ears.

“You were supposed to get better.”

“Clearly, not, since I’m, y’know, dead… Ah, well, everyone dies eventually.”

“Well… you see,” the woman said sheepishly, “we borrowed your soul from another world… you were needed, at the time… we should have sent you back after that iteration, buuut we were kind of busy, and forgot.”

“…Seriously? For how many iterations?”

“Well, don’t worry about it, that’s the past, and this is the present…”

“So? What now?”

“Your soul was demanded back, so we’ll be sending you back,” the woman explained brightly.

“Well, then wipe my memory and send me over,” she sighed waving a hand around.

“Yes… about that… it was kind of an abrupt demand so…” the woman was refusing to look her in the eyes, “there’s not enough time.”

“Are you telling me I’m going to remember everything?”

“In exchange, we’ll send Mochi’s soul with you,” the woman confessed, “and… well, your fated one isn’t in this world anyway, so there’s that.”

“…Word … So? What kind of world is it?”

“It’s called Thedas,” the woman replied brightly, clearly happy to move on, “there’s Humans, Elves, Dwarves, and stuff… Like magic and stuff! Though you won’t be able to cast any spells.”

“Fair enough.”

“And you’ll be an Elf, though that world is nowhere near as technologically advanced as the one you’re coming from… So have fun with that! So try not to seem too smart or they might lynch you!”

She felt her eye twitching in annoyance, was she being punished for something that she didn’t know about?

“Can I pass?” she asked, “you can obliterate my soul, that’s good with me.”

“It was demanded, so no,” the woman replied, “and wouldn’t you feel bad leaving your destined one alone?”

“…I see,” she sighed scratching her dog under her chin, “don’t forget me in our next life, ‘kay?”

“She’ll be joining you in eighteen years, so away you go!” her surroundings began violently glowing. The colored light streaming in from the windows increased in brightness and she covered her eyes in reflex.

“Wait! Isn’t th—”

“Sorry, can’t hear you over the sounds of me reincarnating you,” the woman said with a lilt.

“Hey! Wait! Li—”

And then she was born.


	2. How the Cat Became a Kitten

She missed Great Uncle Google, he was really smart, and she had a lot of things she wished she could ask Google right now.

Such as: when is it expected for a child to speak their first word?

And: what is expected behavior for a three-year-old child?

So at current, she was keeping her silence, as she watched her parents fussing over her. She had already learned to crawl, and to stand up on her own as well as walking. Figuring out motor skills was simple enough, it was simply the extent of what her body could accomplish.

There was another question: when is a child supposed to learn how to read?

Inwardly, she sighed, she would truly have to play dumb to keep people's expectations of her low and to keep her true intelligence a secret. This world was severely behind the one she’d left behind, and she had yet to see anyone cast any sort of spell. Well, she supposed that she should probably consider how she wanted to live her life here. Well, keeping peoples expectations of her low was pretty much her plan anyway.

If her past life had taught her anything, it was that normal is best, and a happy, simple life was preferable. Ask for too much, and you set yourself up for disappointment and heartache. The same was with trying too hard. All that ever did was set her up with crippling mental health issues, anxiety, and such… 

Hopefully she’d be able to avoid such pitfalls in this life. The worries of her past life were now nonexistent, so this would be a bit of a cathartic experience, a new shot at life… And decidedly not Asian and therefore having that social expectation that she should be amazing at absolutely any and everything, and she wouldn’t expect that from herself, wouldn’t be disappointed in herself for being less than that…

There was a reason she was Taoist, and all of that was the reason. Though since she was third generation, her parents didn’t expect her to be perfect at everything, it was her own fault, really. She kept her expectations for herself too high, and she was the one who unmade herself.

Idly she remembered that she once read something about how intelligence is positively correlated with mental illness and suicide and that people with depression score higher on tests of realism… If the mind understands too much about reality, it tries to destroy itself. Wonderful, she’d always thought that knowledge was a double-edged blade, that could either make you or break you.

If there was something nice about this life, it was that apparently, she was now a redhead, though her red hair was kind of the color of blood, or was it more scarlet? Well, it was still pretty sweet, she’d always wanted to be a redhead, but getting there was a pain since it was expensive, and there was no way she trusted herself with her own hair because she was very, _very_ particular about her hair.

“There must be something wrong,” Mother said worriedly, “she’s already three, and she has yet to speak her first word.”

“Sometimes these things take time, Adaia,” Father replied soothingly, “let’s just be patient.”

Oops, she should probably say something.

“Don’t worry, Mother dearest, I am okay,” she said.

Both her parents turned their gazes on her, and she simply went back to playing with the toy Mabari she had yet to name. She missed Chi-chan… Fifteen more years to go. Oh man, she should be twenty-six right now… Well, at least they would be reunited in this life, and that was already the best part of this life.

“Kallian?” Mother asked in awe.

“Yes?” she asked looking up at her Mother.

“Apparently, she was waiting until she could speak a full sentence,” Father laughed picking her up and spinning her around, causing her squeal and laugh.

Seriously, though, when does a child learn how to read?

Her Mother and Father often read her stories from picture books, and since displaying her ability to speak, she began pointing out words and repeating them, much to the excitement of both of her parents. With her being able to speak now, she began to spend time with the Elder of her Alienage and the other children around her age, it was something like attending preschool.

The Alienage itself reminded her of Japan before the black ships… Or was it more like the segregation era? Or maybe it was more like the concentration camps? The whole place was filled with so much squalor that it made her skin itch, and she realized just how spoiled she had been as a person who lived in a first world country. 

She missed daily showers like crazy. There was so much of her past life that she had just taken for granted, not knowing just how privileged she was. She also missed the many different styles of clothing in her past life… How was a girl supposed to be fashionable here? Well, probably sew it herself, that’s how.

She'd recently realized that she’d still inherited personality traits from both her new parents, that she had not had in her past life, honestly. Which was actually a pretty interesting discovery: she’d suddenly become someone only capable of extremes, and for the life of her, could not be anything in between. And that made it significantly harder to be mediocre. So much for normal is best, she was already humongously abnormal. 

She was also now right-handed, which was pretty neat, it would make writing with a quill and ink easier. Well, hopefully with more experiences she would be able to put that life behind her. To be completely honest it was a weird feeling, if she had to compare it to anything, it was like adding flavor into water.

Her Mother had told her that next year, she’d be teaching her how to be a rogue while covering up some of her skills with other skills, which sounded pretty cool. Though, her Mother excelled in dual-wielding, which was super cool, because the romance of dual-wielding always spoke to her on a personal level.

She was out grocery shopping with her mother while her Father was at work in Bann Rodolf’s estate. 

“Mother, why is there a Human in the Alienage?” she asked gesturing to the armed dark-skinned Human, and her Mother immediately hid her behind her skirts as she turned her sights on the man.

“Head home,” Mother said ushering her home, “and wait for me, okay?”

“Are you sure?” she asked worriedly.

“Yes,” Mother nodded, “now go.”

“Okay,” she replied before quickly and quietly leaving.

She was a three-year-old child, what else was she to do? If she’d stayed, she’d just have gotten in her mother’s way, and then she would have to protect her as well as herself. She would be her Mother’s weak point, and he’d go for her and render her Mother defenseless for herself. So, all she could do was wait, and hope.

Chi-chan would be an amazing comfort right now, though she could also attack the Human for them. She was getting worried and began wringing her hands on her dress, she stopped her pacing and sat down to stare at the door. Did she just get her mother killed? And now she was praying to every god she knew, and also Buddha, granted the chances of them hearing her in a world where they don’t exist is basically zero. So to that end, she put in a prayer to the ‘Maker’.

Finally, the door opened with her mother walking into the house, and she leapt up practically tripping over her own two feet as she hugged her Mother, while breathing a sigh of relief.

“Sorry,” Mother apologized kneeling down to get on eye level with her, “I worried you, didn’t I?”

She could only nod wildly in the face of that vast understatement.

And so she thanked the Maker. Andrastian sounded like an Abrahamic religion, and while that was all well and fine, she, herself, could never really get behind it. Shinto and Taoism weren’t religions that locked you into only one belief, though, most East Asian religions. Not only that but East Asia approached religion differently than Europe and America, in that they changed religions to suit their situations. In Japan, people were Shinto for auspicious occasions, dabbled in Christianity for weddings, and then died Buddhist. 

She could never really get down with religions that snuffed the life out of other traditions and religions. Even Buddhism has a bloody history, they also warred against other Buddhists and even killed both children and babies so that they’d be reborn as the _correct_ type of Buddhist. Christianity has a terrible bloody history as well, the crusades were hell on everyone involved… It probably said something about her that she liked learning the shitty sides of religious history.

Ah, well, whatever, she didn’t know the history of this world, and she was only three.

She just hoped it didn’t involve the massive subjugation and attempt to control others as Christianity once had… Call her old fashioned or weird, but she just couldn’t handle the past of Christianity, the number of cultures that were lost because they were considered barbaric… Hawaiian culture had suffered terribly… Much that made Hawaiians Hawaiian had been lost… 

Traditions and languages shouldn’t be banned to suit the tastes of others. The bits of their culture they had recovered were thanks to the collective efforts of the Pacific Islanders. It was a nice thought, that despite everything, they still endured. Though, she knew her own… her old ethnic heritage was guilty of such as well, but she knew that.

“What did the Human want, Mother?” she asked.

“Just to have a chat,” Mother replied.

There was no blood on her Mother, meaning there wasn’t a fight.

“About what?” she asked.

“Nothing important,” Mother answered, “so don’t worry about it.”

“If you say so,” she replied.

“If you ever see that Human again,” Mother warned, “keep out of his sight. Understood?”

“Okay,” she nodded.

He probably wanted something from them that her Mother didn’t want to risk her for.

***

She was five years old now, she’d been learning everything her Mother had to teach her for the past year and a half.

“Like this?” she asked mimicking her Mother’s movements with the training daggers she’d been given.

“Yes,” Mother cheered, “just like that.”

“Okay,” she replied continuing through the movements her Mother had taught her.

“Just… make sure to be safe,” Father sighed watching them, “not just while training. Make sure no one finds out.”

“Okay,” she nodded, “I won’t do anything unless absolutely necessary.”

“Good,” Father replied, “just… remember to be wise.”

“Of course,” she said.

It wouldn’t do to draw unwanted attention to herself and her family. Her actions could have serious ramifications on those around her, and that would not be good. She would do well to hide this from everyone; though she wanted to practice her _wushu_ and parkour eventually. 

Both were always fun, and not only that but learning hand to hand combat was a must if she might actually get into a fight: she wouldn’t always have daggers on her. So to that end, she should make her body the weapon that she knew it could be. Even if she’d probably never actually get into a fight, there was no harm in learning how to defend and rely on herself; especially if she could use those techniques to also protect others… They had also given her a sense of inner peace that her past life had sorely needed.

“Okay, let’s call it here for today,” Mother said stopping her.

“Alright,” she nodded, “will you read me that story again?”

“Of course,” Father replied ruffling her hair, “after dinner. Go wash up.”

In her past life, she’d never gotten her hair ruffled, a ticklish feeling, she simply nodded and bounced off.

***

When she was six, her Father left her, with her Mother as he journeyed out to one of the Freeholds. Her Aunt was sick, and her Uncle had left years ago to find the Dalish. Chances were slim that her Aunt would make a full recovery. Her Mother was already making preparations just in case her cousin, Shianni, would have to move in with them. Luckily, Bann Rodolf wasn’t in Denerim, and wouldn’t be in Denerim for a while, and thus he allowed her Father to take leave to care for her Aunt.

So for now, her Mother continued training her. She was learning so much, she wondered if she had been born into another Asian family. She was learning how to pick locks, sew, knit, cook, and all sorts of things, though her Mother made learning them so much easier, a lot of the skills she was learning tied into each other… Not only that, but growing up in a poor family required her to know how to make a lot of the things she needed. Most Elves in the Alienage were multi-talented in this same way.

“You’ll make a far better rogue than I ever will,” Mother smiled as she picked a lock.

“I hope I won’t have to be,” she replied frowning in concentration.

“Still it wouldn’t be terrible for you to be,” Mother replied.

“I suppose,” she replied, still trying to get the lock open, it was a rather difficult lock to pick.

“You’re so much like your Father sometimes,” Mother chuckled.

“I did it!” she exclaimed happily, before turning to her Mother with a giant smile on her face.

“Good work,” Mother smiled.

“Ohh! Cookies,” she said opening the box to find a small bag of cookies.

“Just for you,” Mother said ruffling her hair, “I’ll go get started on dinner.”

“Can I help?” she asked tilting her head to the side.

“Of course.”

“Mother, why can’t I understand why I’m bad at some things?” she asked as they worked through dinner preparations.

She was the same in her past life, actually. Practice makes perfect… Unless you can’t understand what you don’t understand and then you get confused and then can’t understand why you can’t understand it. She thought she’d be better about it in this life… But that didn’t seem to be the case. 

She had many traits that weren’t ones she had in her past life, so surely she should be able to understand it in this life. She’d also lost many traits that she had, anxiety was a terrible dream, she wasn’t as shy as her past life…

“I’m the same way,” Mother sighed, “I can’t tell you.”

“Oh, I see,” she giggled, “then I guess I’m a lot like you too!”

“Yes, it would appear so,” Mother giggled.

A few days later, they received a message from her Father. Her Aunt had, indeed, passed away. He was returning to Denerim, and he would be bringing Shianni with him.

And Shianni, did not like being in the Alienage. Though to be fair, she didn’t blame her, she had moved from a freehold to the Alienage. Even she could see why she’d hate moving to the Alienage.

“Shianni.”

“Go away, leave me alone,” Shianni glared.

“But Shianni,” she whined, “I just wanted to give you something.”

“Go away.”

“Here,” she said ignoring her and handing her a pouch of cookies from another box she lock-picked.

“I don’t want it,” Shianni said slapping her hand away, causing the cookies to scatter across the floor of their home.

“Sorry…” she apologized before going to clean up the mess.

All Shianni did was huff in anger. What could she do to help her adjust? What could she say? She had never lost her parents in either lifetime. Sure her parents had a divorce, but she still saw her Father, he didn’t up and leave forever. This experience was completely new to her, and she had no idea what she should do… 

Oh no, she was starting to cry from being frustrated with herself; at how she didn’t know what to do, couldn’t relate in any way, shape, or form. She had no idea what to do or say. What should she do? Should she keep trying? Leave her alone? What should she do?

“Let’s just give her some time,” Mother said quietly helping her clean up the mess.

“Okay,” she replied dejectedly.

Dejectedly, she moved on to stew in her own thoughts after they’d finished cleaning up the mess of cookies. Chin in hand as she absentmindedly drew on a piece of paper. She missed pencils, crayons, and let’s not forget: erasers. Instead, she was stuck practicing her letters with an ink and quill, and sometimes she wrote so fast she blurred the letters as her hand moved on. She threw a thank you to the gods that she wasn’t born left-handed this time if she had been… That would have been the worst thing ever.

“…I’m sorry,” Shianni mumbled sitting next to her at the table.

“No, it’s okay, it’s my fault,” she replied, “I should have left you alone.”

“No…” Shianni said trying to keep herself from crying, “I just—”

“It’s okay,” she said hugging Shianni, “it’s okay.”

“I just—” Shianni began wailing in her arms and she began crying as well.

They cried together until there were no more tears; until both had relieved themselves of the emotions that they’d been bottling up. Her frustrations at herself for not knowing what to do to help Shianni, and Shianni not knowing how to adjust to her new living arrangements.

“Here,” she sniffed handing her her stuffed Mabari, “you can have her.”

“What’s her name?” Shianni asked sniffing.

“Castella,” she sniffed, mochi wasn’t a thing here, so she couldn’t name her that. She suddenly really missed eating mochi. But when she got her, she felt like eating castellas so, there was that.

“That names stupid… I’m gonna call her Diana,” Shianni said after a bit of thought, “her name is Diana.”

“Oi… Okay fine, Diana, it is,” she sighed, acquiescing, it was an oddly normal name… She, herself, didn’t like giving animals normal names and usually named them after food. Like Latte, Waffles, and Castella.

“Kallian,” Mother called, “it’s time for your lessons.”

“Okay,” she replied and moved to grab her daggers and other implements for her training. She was becoming quite proficient in all the aspects that went into being a rogue, though she never knew what her mother would train her in next. She never told her in advance, so she never knew what to grab in preparation, keep her on her toes, her Mother had said. She wondered if Shianni would be joining her in her lessons, granted it would have to be only if Shianni showed an interest in it.

***

She was adjusting better now that she and Kallian had gotten on better terms. She gradually began opening up to her family, Kallian’s parents, and her other cousin, Soris and his parents. It quickly became clear to her that the house occupied by Kallian and her parents was the best kept and maintained, likely because Uncle Cyrion’s job was more lucrative than the other Alienage residents.

“Shianni,” Kallian said, “don’t worry, Elder is not scary.”

“Why are you lying to me?” she accused, “he’s really scary!”

“But he’s really nice,” Kallian said reassuringly.

“Mmmmm,” she grumbled, “if you’re wrong we’re not going to be friends anymore.”

“Okay,” Kallian replied easily, did their friendship mean nothing to her? Did Kallian secretly hate her? Why would she lie like this? She said she’d protect her, so why?

Kallian was right, Elder wasn’t scary at all, he was kind and gentle, like a grandfather, or at least what she imagined a grandfather would be like. She should have had more faith in her cousin; but it was hard, especially after she’d lost so much… 

Part of her was afraid of losing the family she had now. The connections she had now— before she had moved here, her father had left them, her mother had died, what would she do if she lost her family now? Would she be able to handle it? She’d already lost so much. She was learning archery from Aunt Adaia. This time, she would protect those she cared for with her own hands. This time she wouldn’t lose her family.

Though, watching Kallian interact with the other children, and even with the adults made her jealous, she seemed to be the center of the Alienage, people were naturally drawn to her. But she was _her_ cousin, well, whatever. Besides her parents, Kallian loved her most, even more than Soris, a fact they both argued over behind Kallian’s back. But she was growing to love the Alienage, despite everything.

Currently, her cousin had disappeared, and neither she nor Soris had any idea where she’d gone, granted, Kallian disappeared quite easily. Sometimes she physically wandered away from a conversation, leaving the other person looking like an idiot while talking to air.

“Shianni,” a barrel called out to her.

“Huh?”

“Shianni, it is I, the barrel of destiny.”

“…Kalli …What are you doing?”

“I’m stuck.”

“How?”

“I fell off the roof and somehow landed in this barrel.”

“What were you doing on the roof?”

“Taking a nap, the weather’s nice and there’s a good breeze.”

“What are you? A cat?”

“Meooowwww, save me, myaaaaaa.”

“Maker’s breath, Kalli… I‘ll go get your mom.”

“Thanks, nyaaaa.”

***

When he was three years old, he gained a new cousin. She was quiet, and pretty like a doll, she was someone he felt that he had to protect. Though, honestly, she ended up protecting _him_ more often than not.

When he was nine, his other cousin, Shianni, moved into the Alienage. The two had quickly become friends and he was starting to feel left out; despite the fact that they included him whenever they could catch him. 

Still, he couldn’t help but feel displaced by Shianni. Up until Shianni had moved in, he was Kallian’s only cousin. He had to keep it to himself though; Shianni had lost both her parents, whereas he still had both his parents. He couldn’t even imagine what it’d be like to lose both of his parents, so he ended up acquiescing his spot. Don’t get him wrong, he loved Shianni dearly, but he couldn’t help feeling as if he’d been replaced.

“Soris,” a crate called out to him.

“What?”

“Soris, help.”

“Why are you in a crate?”

“…I don’t wanna talk about it, help me out.”

“Kalli…” he sighed, using another box to give him enough height to reach into the crate, “how do you end up in these situations?”

“It’s because she’s not an Elf, she’s a cat,” Shianni supplied.

“I am an Elf, nyaaaa,” Kallian replied as he yanked her out of the crate, making sure she had her balance before he let go of her, “thank you, Soris.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied.

Even if Kallian could protect herself and others, he could still help bail her out of trouble like this.

And that was good enough for him.


	3. How the Cat Lived With Her Family

She joined the double-digit club. Her life before and her life now were really starting to feel different; like the person she was, was simultaneously different and the same, and it wasn’t just her experiences. They were the same person, but at the same time not… 

It was weird, she could remember her past life, though parts of her experiences there were fading, and she had different traits in this one. A somewhat different personality, she was calmer, more stable, the mental disorders she’d had were gone, she didn’t wish to die before she grew up anymore, which was great news, truly.

Well, yet, anyway. There was plenty more time for life to screw her over later. At least she still kept the general knowledge she’d learned in her past life, and that would probably help in this one.

Shianni had begun practicing archery. Her Mother refused to teach her cousin lock-picking but ended up teaching her everything else she taught her. Her Mother had also told them to never ever steal, they could lose more from it than the Humans, something which she agreed with: her Father could lose his job, she could lose her life, the repercussions on the Alienage, in general, could be terrible. Even Elves who didn’t do anything wrong faced the harsh scrutiny of persecution. 

So this was what oppression felt like, huh? Being in a minority in a place with an actual majority sucked, she missed being in a cultural melting pot with no majority. Ah, well, she’d be a popsicle if she’d kept her sensitivity to cold from her past life, people who grew up and lived near the equator really had no way to survive in cold climates without a mountain of layers… Actually, what part of the world was she even living in right now?

She’d begun hanging out with the apothecary, and she’d taught her how to grind herbs, and mix potions. Later, she’d learn how to mix poisons, but not for another year or two. It was dangerous, and she could see the logic in that. She’d learned as much as she could from her Mother by now, but she kept practicing with her, improving her stance, and technique, the fluidity of her movements. 

She wondered when she’d meet her fated one, but she was only ten, she shouldn’t really concern herself with meeting them yet. She had time, probably, anyway. Wait, no, positive thoughts, she had time. He had time. They both had time.

“Shianni, come here, quick,” she whispered, upon seeing that dark-skinned Human again.

“Why?” Shianni whispered back.

“Mother told me to stay out of that Human’s sight,” she replied as they both hid in the shadows moving towards their house.

“Do you know why?” Shianni asked.

“No,” she shook her head, “she wouldn’t say.”

“Okay,” Shianni nodded.

***

They could hear a lot of noise going on outside and rushed to the door, but she was stopped by her Mother.

“Stay inside,” Mother commanded, “I’ll see what’s going on. Both you and Shianni are not to leave. Understood?”

“Yes, Mother,” she replied, and both she and Shianni watched her leave through the door.

She could hear people screaming, she could smell fire, she wanted to run out into the streets to find her Mother, but she couldn’t because Shianni was here. She couldn’t lose her cool, Shianni was here. She needed to keep calm, she needed to hold herself together. 

She wished her Father were here, but he wasn’t. She huddled with Shianni, if their house caught fire, she’d move them somewhere safe, she would keep them safe. She didn’t know what was going on, but she had a bad feeling about it, and that was all she knew. She was worried, incredibly worried, tripping, she was tripping over herself.

And it was a few days until her Father was allowed to return home, both she and Shianni hadn’t left the house, hadn’t eaten, and hadn’t slept out of fear. They were on the brink of passing out until they found the charred corpse of her Mother. 

It was her turn to wail in Shianni’s arms.

_Her Mother lay dead, and her family left weeping._

_Powerless._

_She was powerless._

_And she hated her powerless self._

_And so she decided that she would no longer allow herself to feel powerless._

***

He was fifteen when he lost his Aunt Adaia, he didn’t know what to do or say. Kallian was depressed, she couldn’t bring herself to eat, and he was worried. They were all worried, his Uncle Cyrion, did his best to help her transition into being in a one-parent family, but it was hard. He didn’t know what to do or say to help her, neither did Shianni, and Shianni had known what she was going through. Instead of saying anything, the two of them just silently sat with her as she cried. They didn’t need words to help her through this, all they needed to do was be there for her.

They had no words to tell her, but they both knew that just being there for her was enough for her.

***

She was running through the back alleys of Denerim, holding her dress to keep it out of the way. Not slow enough to be caught, yet not fast enough for them to lose interest, just right. She heard their steps behind her, and a small smirk played on her lips as they neared where she was leading them; so with a burst of speed, she disappeared around a corner, leaping up onto the wall and then the roof of a nearby building. They were near one of the hideouts of the many gangs that made these back alleys their home.

“Where did she go?!” one shouted angrily.

“Andraste’s tits when I get my hands on that broad,” another growled.

As she expected, the gang came out of their hiding and advanced upon the nobles. The idiots, she turned her back on them and left, they had just been baited and outsmarted. If you’re going to chase a woman through back alleys, you deserve every bit of misfortune that befalls you. She returned to the Pearl to tell them that their problem had been dealt with, collect her payment, and return the dress and wig. 

If her Mother hadn’t taught her what she knew, she definitely wouldn’t be baiting men and leading them to their doom; it was dangerous, she’s been cornered before, surrounded, but her eyes could see: judge distance, the fastest someone could move, the length of their arms and the furthest they could reach, this allowed her to slip past them, and combined with her training, allow her to leave the encounter unscathed. She jumped on faces and heads, intimidated with her movements and eyes, wall jumped.

Parkour was still fun. She’d retained a lot of what she knew from her past life, at the cost of many of her memories in this one. She had always constantly tried out new things because nothing could keep her attention long enough, well, that and she hadn’t known what she wanted to do with her life. ADHD for the win. When anxiety struck her down, she needed a way to release that pent up energy, and so she’d turned to martial arts… Plus it made her feel like she was one with the world, it made her problems feel small. She was just glad she still knew how to unnerve people with her movements. Well, that and even if it did come down to a fight, she was pretty confident she could take them.

Regardless, there were several risk factors in this but she only acted with careful consideration. Getting cocky would have terrible consequences for her, consequences she wasn’t really comfortable with paying: they were obviously chasing after her for a reason. Rape and molestation were the exact reasons she did this: she refused to allow herself to be targeted and refused to allow anyone else to be targeted as well. If she could act, if she could do something, then she would. Turning the hunter into the hunted would probably be the end of her one day. 

Though she doubted her Father would allow her to do this for much longer… But mischief and mayhem were practically her middle names in this life. Not only that, but her past life pretty much set her up as someone who would always be _scarier than thou_ … All the women in her family had that trait… Get pissed off? Threaten with a knife. Angry? Frying pans are bludgeoning weapons that you can cook with after. And of course, there was always the ever ominous: _choose your words carefully, I know where you sleep at night._

Returning home with a sigh, she opened a journal, grabbed ink and a quill and began writing.

_Dear Mother,_

_I’m fourteen now, and I’ve kept up my training, in the way you taught me, making sure to not get rusty. I’ve been learning potions and poisons from Agatha, and… I… I miss you, Shianni, Soris, and Father miss you as well. We’re doing our best, so don’t worry about us. I’m protecting us as best I can…_

She sighed and put her quill down and the stopper back into the pot of ink. Why did she keep doing this? Tearing the page out she folded it carefully and threw it into the fire. The same ritual she does with every letter she has ever written to her Mother. She should know better and to let the dead rest... She missed the Mother of her past life, whose side she left too soon, and the Mother of this life, who left her side too soon. Balls. Picking up the book she was reading, she rested her chin in her hand, and let her mind wander as she read. Tapping a finger on the table, if she didn’t make noise, every now and again, people got angry with her. She had no idea why.

Well, until she felt someone leaning on her heavily from behind.

“Shianni, what are you doing?” she asked.

“Bothering you.”

“Well, alright then,” she sighed.

“When’re you going to the orphanage to help out next?”

“Probably tomorrow, why?”

“Was just wondering,” she felt Shianni shrug.

“Mind moving?”

“Why, yes,” Shianni replied snarkily, “I do mind moving.”

“Are you telling me not to cook your portion of dinner tonight?”

“Fiinnnee I’ll move,” Shianni whined moving off of her, “also, how many people are you going to lead to their deaths?”

“As many as I feel like.”

“It’s going to be so hard for Uncle Cyrion to find you a husband.”

“Well, he’s got seven years,” she replied, “and that should be plenty enough time for that.”

“True,” Shianni nodded, “still wouldn’t hurt to start making it easier for him.”

“I want to be accepted for who I am, not who I’m not.”

“How romantic of you."

“You say that as if it were a bad thing."

“Well, it’s not, it just makes things harder for Uncle."

“Then I guess I’ll just remain unmarried."

“That’s what I’m going to do."

“Guess we’ll just be unmarried sisters for the rest of our days."

“That doesn’t actually sound too bad,” Shianni paused to think for a bit, “still, I think you would be happier married.”

“Eh, who knows?” she shrugged, returning to her book, though she was quickly interrupted once again.

“KALLI HELP!” Justin shouted banging on her door, she immediately stood up and moved to the door, “KALLI PLEASE! I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO!”

“Calm down,” she said soothingly, “breathe, what happened?”

“It’s my grandma!” Justin cried, “help!”

“Take me to her,” she said, and Justin pulled her along by the hand with Shianni in tow. It didn’t take long for her to know what happened, she didn’t have to see it: she could smell it. Quickly grabbing a sheet from a nearby bed she covered his grandmother’s body with it, “go get Valendrian.”

“On it,” Shianni said running out.

“I—” Justin was inconsolable.

“It’s okay,” she replied hugging him, “why don’t you go wait outside? It’s hard to see her, isn’t it? We’ll handle it.”

“Okay,” Justin sniffed and moved away.

She moved back to the body, rigor mortis was already setting in… and her mind flashed backed to when she found Mochi laying dead… There was nothing anyone could do about old age. Fourteen and becoming so desensitized to death, she was the first person someone thought of to go to when discovering his Grandmother dead.

They spent the next few days handling the funeral arrangements, she and Shianni helped clean the floor of his house. It was hard for him to see her, it was hard for him to be in that house, and she knew how that felt. She and others from the Alienage took turns staying with him, helping him quietly when he wanted to be alone, and there when he didn’t want to be alone.

“You know,” she said sitting next to him, “when I’m missing my Mother, or if there’s something I want to tell her… I write her a letter.”

“What use is that?” Justin scoffed, “she’ll never read it.”

“Doesn’t matter, sometimes it just helps to get it out. She’s not there to speak with me anymore, but that doesn’t mean she can’t listen.”

“You’re dumb,” Justin replied, but took a piece of parchment from her, grabbed an ink bottle and quill, and began penning a letter to his grandmother, while she penned one to her Mother.

“And then we fold it up nice,” she said demonstrating how she folded it before tossing it into the fire, “and then burn it.”

“What’s the point of writing it, if you’re just going to burn it?” Justin asked skeptically.

“Well, how else can we be sure that it reaches them?” she replied, and watched as Justin threw his letter into the fire as well, “feel better?”

“…A little.”

“Just take it step by step, you’ll get there.”

***

“Shianni,” a crate called out to her as she was wondering where her cousin had gone, according to the children, she had disappeared while playing with them.

Generally, either she or Soris were the ones who had to look for her cousin. If she wasn’t paying attention, she got lost easily and trapped in weird places; especially while she was lost in thought. Her actually physically getting lost generally wasn’t a problem for her; she just jumped up to the highest roof she could find and to get a birds-eye view to figure out where she was. 

Well, at least her dumb cousin always paid attention while she was out of the Alienage. Then again, there were actually many reasons that Kallian was often referred to as a cat. One of them her like of being in containers, easy enough to understand; another was because of her flexibility and cat-like reflexes, she also moved quietly like a cat on the prowl, and had a small obsession with hunting. 

Kallian’s ability to naturally disappear was really second to none, it was to the point where she had to consciously make noise as she moved around, otherwise, she just moved so quietly. She just… moved so quietly. Maybe they should just get her a bell.

“… Seriously?”

“I messed up.”

“What were you doing this time?”

“Playing hide and seek.”

“How are you such a good rogue and yet you get stuck in odd places?”

“… I can’t help the fact that I’m a clumsy idiot when I’m not paying attention.”

“Maybe you should pay attention.”

“Help me, nyaaaa.”

“You stupid cat,” she grumbled while helping her cousin free herself from the crate.

“Thank you, myaaa.”

“But seriously, how do you always end up in these situations?”

“I don’t know,” Kallian grumbled, “I was wondering that too. I spent a lot of time thinking about my life choices while in that crate.”

“And?”

“I came to the conclusion that I am an idiot.”

“I won’t argue there,” she sighed.

Sometimes, she didn’t understand her cousin, she loved her to bits and pieces… but sometimes, she just made no sense. She’d made that she didn’t know exactly how smart her cousin was, there were times where her knowledge pool seemed abnormally large, and then there were times where it seemed incredibly small. 

Sometimes, she had the feeling that her cousin was hiding something. Since she wasn’t sure, she figured Kallian could handle it in her own time, and if it was something she needed help with, she knew they were there for her. To be honest, though, the chances that Kallian was hiding something were pretty high the woman was practically a vault of secrets no one could get into, many didn’t even know it existed, and her expressions betrayed nothing.

“Haaaaaaaah!?” Kallian shouted angrily drawing her out of her thoughts, “you wanna see what happens if you try saying that to me again?!”

“…Kalli, stop yelling at the drunkards,” she sighed grabbing her cousin and dragging her off.

Kallian seemed to have infinite patience… until you were an idiot. She couldn’t seem to tolerate ignorant idiocy. Honestly, they were lucky that Kallian didn’t brandish her fists, the woman was terrifying in a fight… Well probably, anyway. She had yet to see her get into an actual fight, but she could tell that she could easily beat the shit out of someone.

She dumped buckets of water over Kallian’s head, and watched as her cousin covered her nose and mouth in a scarf and run into the roaring inferno. A few people ran out of the building before Kallian ran back outside, and shortly after the house collapsed behind her. Kallian was collapsing houses to keep the fire from spreading too much. 

As worried as she was, if it wasn’t done, the damage would be left unchecked. They were only fifteen years old, and they were being called the Fire Sisters since they were always helping to keep the damage to a minimum. They moved quickly between the houses, but she could see slight burns on Kallian’s skin and clothes. They forced themselves to keep going.

A child was roughly shoved out of the fire and a beam was falling on to Kallian, she screamed in horror, only able to watch as Kallian crossed her arms to shield her face before roughly pushing it to the side and escaping at the last second. She ran towards her cousin who was curled up, holding her arms close to her body.

“Kalli, let me see,” she demanded, and she gingerly moved her arms. The burns on her forearms were pretty bad… and made even more complicated by splintered wood and the cloth of her sleeves that looked like they were fused to her skin. They immediately brought her to the resident healer; Kallian biting down on a strip of leather as they carefully peeled back the cloth and gently removed the splintered wood. 

Her prodigious cousin who had always been careful, had always known the dangers of running into burning buildings and collapsing houses suddenly seemed not as invincible. She knew Kallian wasn’t invincible, she knew her cousin was flawed, but it was still weird to see her injured like this.

In the aftermath, she helped Kallian apply a poultice to her burns, wrap bandages on them, but Kallian seemed to be more despondent than usual as she organized the purchase of wood taken from dismantled ships. She was likely going to have those burn scars for the rest of her life. 

Kallian didn’t lose as much as others, but as much as she tried to hide it, she seemed to hate looking at her own burn scars. Kallian called them a badge of pride, a mark of honor proving that she saved someone, so why didn’t she like looking at them? Why did she hide them? Her always confident cousin was hiding her arms and she still didn’t understand why.

“Do they hurt?” she asked.

“No, I just don’t like looking at them.”

“Then let’s do something to make you like looking at them.”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Kallian sighed as she allowed herself to be led away.

She brought them back home and forced Kallian to lay down on her stomach. Pulling out needles and tattoo ink, Kallian had an extremely unhappy look on her face and tried to move away. Seeing her chance, she pounced onto her to keep her where she was and then began tattooing red flowers complete with leaves and vines around her burns. 

Her hopes were that she could show her that even though she may be scarred, she was still beautiful. Idly, she remembered breaking her favorite cup one day, Kallian had helped her put it back together, and showed her that it could be more beautiful fixed than it was before.

“Stop squirming,” she chastised, “you’re going to ruin it.”

“You just wait until it’s your turn,” Kallian glared.

“The more you squirm the more it’ll hurt.”

“Ow! Owowowowow,” Kallian hissed, sometimes her dumb cousin was so much like a cat, it was weird.

“We’re turning you into a faerie,” she replied brightly, “don’t worry it’ll look amazing.”

“Shianni, you sadist!”

“Beauty is pain.”

“If it’s this painful, then I don’t want to be beautiful.”

“You’re already beautiful, it’s just a matter of making you more beautiful."

“If I’m already beautiful then why are you doing this?”

“Because you don’t like looking at them."

“Andraste’s tits, Shianni.”

She began putting the finishing touches on her left forearm, and Kallian relaxed her grip but continued to glower at her as she began to repeat the process on her right. Once she was done, Kallian turned the tables on her, and was now sitting on her to tattoo flowers on her, though instead of her arms, she tattooed her back.

“Oh, fuck me, it hurts,” she hissed.

“Right?” Kallian replied mockingly, “stop squirming, you’re going to ruin it.”

“Honestly, Shianni,” Soris said, “you did make her go through this too.”

“We should share our suffering with you,” she replied.

“No, I’m alright,” Soris replied.

“No, she’s right, we should share our suffering with you.”

“I’m fine,” Soris said quickly, “I’m going to go home now.”

“Bye, Soris,” they replied in unison.

She was practicing patience while sewing a dress. Kallian was much better at these things, her fingers generally flew through the movements easily, too bad her nose was currently stuck in a book. Kallian stretched, the motion moved her and messed up her stitching. She almost killed her cousin.

“Oh, sorry, did I fuck up your stitching?” she felt Kallian reposition herself to look over her shoulder.

“Yes, you did.”

“Want me to finish it for you?” Kallian asked, scooting next to her so that they were sitting shoulder to shoulder, instead of back to back as they had been.

“Yes.”

“‘Kay,” Kallian said holding out her hands, and she passed the fabric needle and thread over, and with that out of the way, she opened a bag of candy. Without even glancing at her, Kallian opened her mouth, “ahhhh.”

Rolling her eyes, she popped a piece into her mouth, before eating her own.

“Oh, man, these are good,” Kallian said, “where’d you get them?”

“Made them.”

“…Seriously? Make moar! Aahh,” Kallian opened her mouth again, and she popped another piece of candy into her mouth.

“I’ll think about it.”

“I demands it!”

“We’ll see.”

***

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she hummed a random series of notes as she worked, she adjusted the way she was sitting and pulled one of her legs up so that her ankle was resting on her thigh. She heard the door to her room open, but didn’t pay it any mind, there was only one person who would enter her room without knocking, and that was Shianni… Because they shared the same room.

“Whatcha making?” Shianni asked, “and why do you like sitting on the floor so much?”

“Dunno, preference? Braided cord bracelets, and a new hair tie,” she replied, “want one?”

“You’re weird, and yes, please! Not a hair tie though, I don’t need one of those.”

“‘Kay, what colors do you want? And is this really how you ask someone for a favor?”

“Blue, your favorite color.”

“‘Kay.”

She ended up teaching Shianni how to make the bracelets, and they ended up making one for Soris too… Which they gave him right after pranking him, as a way to apologize.

She yawned and stretched, loosening up all of her joints, and tested out her flexibility, before walking off the edge of the roof she had been napping on. It was faster to fall than it was to climb down. Sometimes she just sat on a roof and watched people go about their day, imagining what kind of lives they were living, what their worries were… Sometimes she just liked being in high places, sometimes she just wanted to review her knowledge of the landscape. Sometimes, it was a nice quiet place for her to practice her stances and such, sometimes it was a good meditation spot, and she could really feel one with the universe.

Wait, why did she like high places so much? Maybe she really was a cat.

“Shianni! Look out below!” she called, and luckily her cousin moved in time for her to land right next to her, “hey, Shianni.”

“…Is there a reason it’s raining Kallians?” Shianni asked.

“It’s faster to fall than it is to climb down,” she replied, “well, if you know how to do it safely, anyway.”

“Where did you go?” Shianni asked.

“I was taking a nap,” she replied pointing to the roof she’d been napping on, holding the pulled out sleeves of her tunic to the palms of her hands, “it’s warm, and there’s a nice breeze on that roof.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“You should join me one day,” she pouted, “you’ll see, it’s nice and comfy. Perfect nap weather.”

“I don’t want to turn into a cat like you.”

“D’aww, don’t say that, nyaaa.”

“You say that, and yet you still act, and sound like a cat,” Shianni replied dryly.

Another fire… It was a dry season, and fires were starting up more often, it didn’t help that there was another riot. At least it was quiet for a year before things kicked up again. Shianni dumped another bucket of water over her head, and she ran back in. She couldn’t let her trepidations about getting burned again get to her: she had people to save and fires to stop from spreading, so she fought through her fear. Being burned sucked, but she couldn’t let that stop her. She could tell that Shianni would rather she just stop. Her Father probably would too, no one would blame her if she just quit. Still, she was drawn to fire, like an idiot, everything in her life seemed to be connected to fire.

“Kalli! Shianni!” Soris shouted, “help!”

After sharing a look they immediately ran to their cousin, his house was on fire, and Soris was trying to brave the fires that’d consumed his house.

“Where’s Aunt and Uncle?!” Shianni asked quickly.

“They’re still inside!” Soris replied.

Shianni dumped another bucket of water over her head and she ran in quickly, securing her damp scarf around the lower half of her face, she looked around hoping to find them as quickly as possible. The house was already beginning to fall, she wouldn’t have much time left. She saw them, and saw that she was too late, and sprinted out of the building, coughing violently.

“I’m sorry, Soris,” she cried, “I was too late.”

“What?!” Soris shouted at her wildly.

“I was too late,” she cried, “I’m so sorry.”

“Why?” Soris shook her, “why were you able to save all those other people, but not my parents?!”

All of these life experiences, all her combined ages, and it still didn’t matter. All her abilities, all her skills, and she was still powerless. What use was she? No, she couldn’t let this get to her; she couldn’t… His Holiness Dalai Lama the Fourteenth, give her the strength to persevere… What was it he once said? Tragedy should be utilized as a source of strength? Yes, she can’t lose hope.

“SORIS STOP!” Shianni shouted, “she did her best!” 

Her Father was home faster this time. His work often kept him away from the Alienage during riots, she knew that he was always terrified of coming back to find his whole family dead; especially after having come back to find her Mother dead. Soris’s parents were dead now, and their funeral had been yesterday.

“Kallian,” Father begged, “please… don’t run into burning buildings anymore. I don’t think I can lose any more family to fire.”

“Okay,” she cried, “I’m sorry, Father. I couldn’t save them.”

“No, you’re only sixteen,” Father replied, “you’ve done more than enough… Give Soris some time.”

“Okay,” she replied, she would not give in to despair this time, she was not going to fall into the spiraling pit of self-hatred. No, she was going to keep moving forward, or die trying… Which in hindsight was far more likely.

_Fire._

_It was hot. She could feel the heat of it on her skin, could hear the screams; the scent of burning buildings and corpses hung in the air. She could hear her Mother, Uncle, and Aunt calling out for help, but she couldn’t reach them, she tried but was blocked off by a falling beam. They burned alive right in front of her eyes. Shianni, Soris, and her Father were screaming for her, but there was nothing she could do._

_Powerless._

_She was powerless._

_All of her abilities, all her knowledge, experiences, and strength… it was still all for nothing._

_She was still powerless._

_But still, she would try not lose hope._

***

He was nineteen years old when he lost both his parents. When he finally felt what Kallian and Shianni had gone through. He knew it wasn’t her fault, he knew she tried her best, but it was still hard. Seeing all the people she’d saved, and not seeing his parents among them. The guilt and frustration were eating away at her, even if she tried to pretend it didn’t. She was a good liar, she wove lies together as if she were knitting a blanket. And even though he’d been with her for her entire life, sometimes he couldn’t read into her, but right now… right now the hurt, the pain, and suffering, he could see it clearly.

He was hurting her, he could see it in her eyes. He needed to apologize, to tell her that he understood that it wasn’t her fault, but the longer he put it off, the harder the words were to say. So in the end, all he could do was avoid her like a coward. He hated that part of himself, he was hurting her every time he went out of his way to not even see her. Kallian was a strong person, seemingly invincible, but he knew that emotional wounds sliced her heart sharper than any blade could.

“Kalli,” he finally said, causing her to jump in surprise, “I’m sorry.”

“No it’s—”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he chastised her, “it wasn’t your fault. You did all you could, it wasn’t fair for me to turn on you like that.”

“I—”

“I just said not to apologize,” he chuckled wryly messing up her hair, her hands shot up to bat his away, and he caught a glimpse of the bandages she wore over the scars from last years fire. Guilt sliced through his own heart, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Kallian replied wrapping her arms around him in a hug, “I understand.”

“That’s not an excuse.”

“No, it is,” Kallian shook her head.

His cousin was a hero, and he had treated her like a villain. Even if Kallian forgave him, even if she understood, it would still hurt him to know that he’d dealt that emotional blow to her for the rest of his life.

He loved his cousin dearly, and he regret that he hurt her more than the burns on her arms.

***

They were sitting across from each other, Kallian was reading a book in front of her, and she wanted to ask her something… To tell her something but she was suddenly having a hard time saying it, she’d gone through this conversation in her head multiple times… Screw it, she couldn’t let fear stop her from living the life she wanted… If Kallian didn’t support her then… She’d probably figure something out. Probably. Maybe.

She prayed to the Maker that Kallian wouldn’t think differently of her, wouldn’t look at her in disgust; she probably wouldn’t, Kallian was abnormally accepting, but even knowing that she was afraid to voice it. Once she put those words out into the world, she’d never be able to take them back; there was no way Kallian would ever forget.

“Kalli,” she said catching her cousin’s attention.

“Mhm?” Kallian hummed in question as she turned a page.

“I’m not attracted to men,” she admitted, and Kallian immediately closed her book and looked up at her; she felt her heart in her throat. Did she fuck this up? Did Kalli hate her now? Find her disgusting?

“Shianni, there’s nothing wrong with that. I can’t even choose what kind of food I like and dislike, why would I judge you on what your sexual preference is?” Kallian replied wryly, “I can’t choose what I like and dislike, you can’t either.”

“You don’t think there’s something wrong with me?” she asked.

“Why would I?” Kallian replied, “there’s absolutely nothing wrong with you. Rather, if I thought there was something wrong with you, then that would mean that there’s something fundamentally wrong with me. Why? Do you think there’s something wrong with you?”

“I… just I don’t know, maybe?”

“There isn’t, but thank you for trusting me enough to tell me."

She felt a huge weight lift from her chest and she stood up and hugged her cousin tightly. There wasn’t anything wrong with her, Kallian saw nothing wrong with her. Kallian wouldn’t judge her, wouldn’t see her as less of a person, wouldn’t look at her differently; and for now, that was all she needed. It would have crushed her if her cousin had thought there was something wrong with her, she would never have been able to recover from that.

“So we’re clear,” Kallian said rubbing her back, “I’m into men. But let me know if you need anything. Tell me if someone gives you shit for it, I’ll kick their asses.”

“Thanks, bitch,” she replied.

“Anytime, bitch."

“By the way,” she said moving her hands to grope her cousin's breasts, “have they gotten bigger?”

“Shianni, stop, those are mine."

“They’re still so small.”

“I’m going to hurt you, I can’t control the size of my breasts.”

“By the way, what are you always reading?”

“Novels.”

“What kind?”

“Any, really. My favorites are the ones with good villains.”

“Villains?”

“I’ve always identified more with villains.”

“…Reasons?”

“Not sure, but a villain is what truly makes a story good. Without a good villain, what use is a hero?”

“I think you’re more of a hero.”

“Maybe an anti-hero, but I still prefer villains.”

“You’re weird.”

“True.”

***

The Tabris Trio were sitting on one of the roofs, waiting for the sun to rise on First Day. If there was something she appreciated about this world: it was the lack of light pollution and the fact that she could see the stars. After promising her Father that she’d no longer put herself in danger for others, she’d decided to grow her hair out, no longer needing it short to deal with fire. She liked her hair, so this really worked for her. New life, and still particular about her hair, in her past life, it had been a family trait; it carried over to this one, which she was fine with…

Thinking about it, there were a lot of similarities between both lives, but there were also a lot of differences, she was far more playful in this life, though she retained much of her well-mannered polite attitude from her last life… Likely that part of her stemmed from a combination of her past life and her Father’s influence.

“Damn Soris,” she hummed, “they’re going to start looking for your wife next year.”

“Don’t remind me,” Soris grumbled, “you’re lucky, you have another four years before you get to look forward to it.”

“Hey, don’t insult my delicate maiden heart,” she replied. All she could really do was hope that the person she would eventually be matched with was her fated one. She was promised a fated one in this life. Well, not promised, just sort of alluded to, she was going to be salty as hell if she never met him. Then again, how does one know if they’ve met their fated one? She also wondered how she was going to meet back up with Chi-chan, where was she to meet her pupper?

She pulled a sandwich out of the basket they’d brought with them, and rolled her eyes when Shianni held out her hand, and pulled out another sandwich after handing it to Shianni. She offered one to Soris, who took it with a thank you. This was a yearly tradition for them, waiting to watch the first sunrise of the new year. There were no super-accurate clocks, and so she had no idea when midnight was, first sunrise would have to do. Not only that, but there were two moons, and it was nice to look up at. 

The sky here was clear, so it was nice… She wondered if there were meteor showers she could watch. Maybe she should pay more attention to the night sky, though there weren’t any she could see from Denerim, anyway.

“You? You have a delicate maiden heart?” Soris laughed, “this from the Fire Sister who led men to their doom in the back alleys of Denerim?”

“I haven’t in a long time,” she rolled her eyes, she’d stopped hunting a long time ago, “I stopped after I got scarred, remember? My hunting career was only a year… Ohh a rhyme.”

“Doesn’t mean that you never did, and I think it was a little longer than that."

“Ugggh, shut up oldie."

“I’m only three years older than you."

“That’s still three years, oldie,” Shianni chimed in.

“Not you too,” Soris groaned.

“But you _are_ older than us by three years, oldie,” she replied, she, a person who died when they were twenty-three was now calling him, a person who was twenty, oldie.

“Now you’re insulting my delicate heart,” Soris grumbled into his sandwich.

“Aw, you know we love you,” Shianni laughed.

“We’ll be right in your shoes in four years, Soris,” she replied dryly, “don’t worry.”

“From the Fire Sisters who have declared that they’ll stay unmarried for their entire lives?” Soris asked.

“Father won’t allow it,” she sighed, “he wants me to be happy. And if I have to get married, then so does Shianni.”

“You’re so mean,” Shianni frowned, “you know I’m not into men.”

“I do,” she replied, “but I can still give you shit about it. You do the same anyway.”

“And we’re not the Fire Sisters anymore,” Shianni added, “we were banned, remember?”

“I’m pretty sure your moniker will always be there,” Soris replied, “you’ll always be the Fire Sisters.”

“That’ll make it so much easier for me to get married, the woman who ran into burning buildings and got scarred.”

“You know Uncle Cyrion wouldn’t allow you to be unhappy,” Soris replied.

“True,” she replied with a sigh.

Marriage was a rite of passage, a way to add fresh life into the Alienage, someone would move between Alienages. Apparently, her Mother was from Gwaren, she had no real idea where that was, she also had yet to see a map of this world. Seventeen years living in this world, and she’d yet to see a map. Okay, let’s review what she _did_ know:

One: She lived in a country called Ferelden.  
Two: She lived in the capital city called Denerim.  
Three: Elves were treated like shit.  
Four: Magic was indeed a thing, as evidenced in the fact that a rat became an ice cube the other day while she was helping out in the orphanage.  
Five: Mages had it pretty shit too, as evidenced by the fact that templars came and took said mage away the next day.  
Six: This world was also round.

She really missed Google in times like these. Her knowledge of this world was severely lacking, actually, the worlds knowledge of this world was probably lacking.

“Oh, there,” she pointed as the first rays of sun began peeking over the horizon, “Happy First Day.”

“Happy First Day,” her cousins replied in unison.

“We should go prepare for the rest of the day,” she said standing up and dusting herself off.

“Yeah,” Soris replied, “I’ll see you two later.”

As she climbed down the roofs to return to the Alienage, she suddenly had an epiphany: she was an idiot, why didn’t she just ask Alarith about the world outside Denerim? He was from somewhere called Tevinter, he probably knew a lot; so with that thought, she decided she would ask him about it sometime later this week. Her heart suddenly leapt up into her throat as her foot slipped, barely managing to catch herself in time. She should really stop wandering around when lost in thought, honestly, she was just glad her ankle flexibility kept her from eating shit.

Alarith began stocking informational books for her to read, and she feasted on them; learning as much as she could about this world. For instance, Thedas was originally only inhabited by the Elves, and maybe the Dwarves, then the Humans came and things went to shit; which sounded familiar. She learned about the Exalted Marches, which also sounded pretty familiar. 

Honestly, she didn’t think that Human history would be eerily similar in both worlds; but, well, here it was. Another reason she was grateful for the books he stocked, was the fact that _I read it in a book somewhere_ was such a convenient phrase… Wait, thinking about it, wasn’t Andraste a Roman goddess in her old world? Now it was going to bug her, folklore and myth were some of her favorite studies, she wished she could look this up.

He’d also procured a map of Thedas for her; something which she was grateful for, and by studying it, she’d deduced that if this world was like her old one, they were in the southern hemisphere, the weather was more tropical at the tip of the map, and the weather here was colder… Actually… The land continued on past the Anderfels and southwest of Orlais… Hm… What if the north she was looking at, wasn’t true north? And the map should be rotated differently? 

Then again, she couldn’t expect this world to function the same as the world of her past life… Though, it looked like Antiva was prime real estate for an Island Girl like her. That giant bay? And that kind of weather? Ooh baby.

Though Antiva looked too big for her… Actually, living on a continent was kind of weird. Not only that, but it was probably expensive as shit. Ah, well, she’ll probably never leave the Alienage anyway, so it doesn’t really concern her. She’s quite happy where she was… Though she missed swimming, kind of a lot. Unfortunately, however, she was too afraid to go to the docks, she could easily be targeted there. The risks outweighed the rewards.

“Can’t you go bother Shianni?” Alarith groaned after answering yet another of her questions, “or Soris?”

“Neither Shianni nor Soris knows what you know.”

“So, what? Are you planning on leaving the Alienage one day?”

“Of course not, I don’t know the first thing about camping or traveling. I know my limits, I don’t care about actually seeing the world, I just want to know about it.”

“Good, both Valendrian and your Father would kill me if you did.”

“I’m not the adventurous type, I’m just a bookworm.”

“What are you planning to do with all this knowledge?”

“Who knows? I’ll figure it out later.”

“You do realize people are going to suspect us of being in a relationship, right?”

“I don’t think I’m your type.”

“You’re not, I’m not into brats who annoy me, nor am I into incorrigible pranksters.”

“I figured as much.”

“Can’t you see I’m busy?” Alarith sighed, clearly trying to get her to leave, but instead, she looked around at the empty shop.

“I see… no customers,” she replied, gesturing to the lack of business, “also, I’m the best business you have.”

“No one likes a smart ass.”

“Yes, yes,” she said pulling her purse out of her pocket, “now, how much do I owe you?”

“Twenty-silver.”

“Uwaaa… steep,” she cringed pulling out the silver coins.

“Where are you even getting your money from?” Alarith asked as she took her books and stashed them in a bag.

“Odd jobs,” she replied brightly, “Chanter’s board, y’know?”

“Your Father is going to have such a hard time finding you a match.”

“What makes you say that?” she frowned.

“A headstrong trouble-making woman like you?” Alarith laughed, “no way.”

“If he doesn’t like the person I am then he doesn’t deserve me,” she stuck her tongue out, “see ya!”

Marriage, marriage, marriage. 

_“It’ll be hard to find you a husband.”_

_“You’re making it harder for your Father to find you a match.”_

She was getting tired of hearing this, her worth shouldn’t be defined by her marriageability. It wasn’t their fault, it was society that was wrong, society was the one perpetuating all of these biases that should be inconsequential. She hated that her cousin felt like there was something wrong with her just because she was into women and not men. 

The world of her past life still had these problems, and it was far more advanced… Why did people like to judge each other like this? It made no sense to her, it never did; then again, she’d grown up in a community without a majority, she’d never really thought much about how spoiled she was to have lived in a place like that.

She looked at her hand, clenched it and unclenched it. Considering her financial situation, she should probably start trying to slow her metabolism down. She’s already hit her growth spurt, so it should be okay; and she’s spent the last year and a half off and on carefully beating the shit out of things to reinforce her bone structure, so strength-wise, she should also still be okay if she continued with very light exercise, and unfortunately, not eating too many calories. 

Which was the main problem… Well, hopefully, she wasn’t a monster when hungry, and no one’ll die. For the sake of her future, and her wallet, she must prevail.

***

For some reason, her cousin has been hanging out with Alarith a lot lately, asking about his life and such; it made her suspicious, was Kallian in love with their shop keeper? She did seem like the type who would like older men, and Alarith was older and far more mature than the other boys in the Alienage. Should she tease her about it? Actually, that was a stupid question, of course, she should tease her about it.

“I’m home,” Kallian sighed as she entered their house.

“Welcome home,” she replied.

“Thanks."

“Did you have a good time with Alarith?”

“Hm? Ah, yeah, though he kicked me out."

“What do you think about Alarith?”

“He’s great,” Kallian yawned, “he’s really been opening up my world lately.”

She was shocked, had they really gone that far already? Kallian was charming, witty, and charismatic, sure, but she didn’t expect this of Alarith; actually, she didn’t expect this about Kallian. Was there something about her virtuous cousin that she hadn’t known was there all along?

“Wait, hold up, I’m getting the feeling that you’re misunderstanding something,” Kallian said as realization seemed to dawn on her, “we’re not like that.”

“Are you sure?” she asked waggling her brows, “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Maker’s breath, Shianni,” Kallian sighed, “Valendrian won’t tell us about the world outside Denerim, and I want to know about it.”

“Boooooooorrrrrrring,” she groaned, “I was really looking forward to hot interesting gossip.”

Of course, her cousin was boring and just wanted to learn. It would’ve been super interesting if Kallian were interested in Alarith. Though, Uncle would probably be disappointed if she were. He had nothing against Alarith, but… Ah, well, at least now she could reassure him that there was nothing between them.

“Sorry, but there isn’t any."

“Do you at least have a crush on anyone?”

“Nope, but if I ever develop one, you’ll be the first to know."

“I’d damn well better be. By the way, can I ask you something?”

“You just did.”

“Oh ha-ha.”

“What’d you wanna know?”

“Do you even have any weaknesses?”

“…That’s a dumb question. You should know them by now.”

“I don’t, that’s why I’m asking.”

“I have a shit memory, I overthink things, I’m not always as smart as I seem, I’m probably going to get in way over my head one day,” Kallian replied counting off her fingers, “when that happens, I’ll probably crash and burn.”

“You’re already burned.”

“Touché. I’m also constantly hungry,” Kallian added, “which is financially draining.”

“…True, you do eat like a pig… How you’re still slender is a mystery,” she nodded, prompting Kallian to push her.

“Exercise, bitch tits. Why are you asking about my weaknesses? You planning on killing me?”

“What? No, I was just curious, you always seem so perfect… and at least I have tits.”

“Low blow, and if it’s you, I wouldn’t mind. Are you sure you’re not just expecting me to be perfect and ignoring my flaws?”

“Touché. How are you not as smart as you seem? And what do you mean, you wouldn’t mind?”

“I’ve been burned, but haven’t learned my lesson, and am still drawn to flame… Like an idiot. Or a moth. Or both. And I know what I said.”

“An idiot moth.”

“Moth brains aren’t really that big to begin with, so maybe I’m actually a smart moth… Also, are you forgetting all the times you had to save me? From crates? And barrels?”

“…How did I forget that?”

“That’s what I want to know,” Kallian said opening up a bag of cookies, she opened her mouth. Kallian rolled her eyes as she fed her a cookie, before popping one into her own mouth.

“Thank you,” she said covering her mouth as she chewed, “and didn’t you get stuck in a barrel recently?”

“I wanted to see if I could still fit.”

“You stupid cat, though you could, you just messed up in positioning your legs.”

“Myaaaa, it’s rude to insult people, nyaaaaa.”

“Also, your eating habits would be cheaper if you’d just accepted the free things people try to throw at you.”

“Ha-ha-ha, you silly,” Kallian laughed mockingly, “Shianni, there is nothing more expensive than things that are free.”

“…That makes no sense,” she frowned, seriously, what the fuck was her cousin on about?

“If you accept something that’s labeled as free,” Kallian explained, “then the person that gave it to you can trap you. That’s how they get you, you know? _I gave you this free thing, therefore you have to do this for me_. Often times, what they ask for can be far more expensive than the thing you got.”

“Okay, that makes a lot more sense,” she replied thoughtfully, “I didn’t even consider that.”

“‘Swhat I’m here for.”

Idly, she wondered exactly how much Kallian had protected her without so much as a second thought.

“Do you ever wonder what you’re life’ll be like in the future?”

“Doesn’t everyone? However, the future is something that is forever uncertain,” Kallian yawned, “no matter how intricate your plans are, how well thought out they are, even the best-laid plans can always go awry.”


	4. How the Cat Gained a Mail-Order Husband

For once, she was sitting on top of a crate, and not inside of it, swinging her legs around as she helped Valendrian watch the children play. Her reflexes were far faster than his, so she could react faster than he could in case something bad happened. She tossed an apple up, caught it, and repeated. 

She’d always been pretty good with kids, she didn’t really understand why, but whatever, it came in handy. Idly she thought about her life at current, she slowed down her metabolism, and as planned her strength didn’t take too large a hit, and she still retained her flexibility. Now she was trying to add fat to her body, because aesthetically, being skin and bones wasn’t really what she liked for herself. She wanted that golden ratio of muscle and fat, and she wanted to keep her strength up for just in casies; you never know what the future will hold, and if she’ll need to do some heavy lifting.

Being a strong independent woman was her current goal, along with still keeping as normal a life as possible.

“Soris!” she shouted seeing Soris talking with Taeodor, “think fast!”

“Stop playing with your food!” Soris shouted back barely catching the apple in time.

“Hi, Taeodor!” she waved, ignoring Soris.

“Hey, Kalli,” Taeodor waved back, as she saw a child trip, swiftly moving to stop their fall.

“Be more careful,” she replied setting the child back on their feet with a pat on their head, “how are you doing?”

“Pretty good,” Taeodor replied, “and you?”

“Alright,” she answered, walking back to her crate and sitting on it cross-legged this time.

“I’m surprised to see you sitting on top of a crate,” Taeodor said wryly, “and not inside of it.”

“Right?” Soris laughed.

“I can’t watch children inside a crate,” she laughed.

“I’m sure you could figure it out,” Taeodor laughed.

“I agree,” Soris said as she scooted over so that Soris could sit on the crate with her, “see you later, Taeodor.”

“Yeah, see you,” Taeodor waved before going home.

“No pranks and hijinks today?” Soris asked biting into the apple she’d thrown at him

“Not any that you know of, anyway,” she grinned.

“…As long as they don’t include me,” Soris groaned, “it’s fine with me.”

She loved her cousin Soris, even if he was a bit of a square.

***

She was watching her cousin playing jump rope with a bunch of the children. Honestly, how she could pull this stuff off without tripping was surprising, especially considering how clumsy she could be. Another kid jumped in along with her and they both began laughing while keeping in time with the rope swings.

Though, her cousin was actually highly flexible and mobile, and was great at jumping from place to place, she somehow still ended up falling into weird places all the time. Ah, one of the children messed up, and Kallian laughed and helped them up, as they stopped the rope from swinging. They kept Kallian in the middle jumping while starting to swing the rope again when she noticed her watching.

“Shianni! C’mon, hop in,” Kallian grinned, “pun intended.”

“Kalli, you suck,” she laughed moving to join her cousin.

“C’mon, it’s like this,” Kallian laughed as both cousins jumped in time with the swinging rope, while gesturing for the other children to join them, and the children jumped in mimicking their movements, Kallian giving a thumbs up as they got the rhythm down, “yeah! You’re getting it!”

She really loved her energetic, idiot, cat of a cousin, who always had a smile, a laugh, and encouraging words to help people through their days.

“So, Shianni,” Kallian hummed on while they were on their way home, “how’s your relationship going?”

“Pretty good,” she replied, “much better than your lack of one, that’s for sure.”

“Pshhh, I don’t need a relationship,” Kallian replied linking their arms together as they walked back home, “boys are stupid, all I need are good friends and fun times.”

“Then maybe you should come over to my side.”

“I just don’t feel that way about girls,” 

“What is your type, anyway?”

“Average,” Kallian said as she snapped her fingers into a thumbs up, “normal people.”

“…That’s a shame, you could really land yourself a super hot guy.”

“Ah, but extravagant food can get boring fairly quickly, whereas a nice simple home-cooked meal will always hit the spot.”

“…I suppose, you weirdo.”

“Whoaaa, rude.”

Kallian spotted Soris first. Sharing a mischievous look, they both snuck up on their unsuspecting cousin.

“Boo!” they shouted in unison, scaring Soris out of his skin. Dissolving into a fit of giggles, they both ran away as Soris chased after them.

They really loved their cousin Soris.

***

“Hip hip,” Kallian cheered clapping her hands, “you’re oolllllllllllllllllllllld.”

“…Gee, thanks,” he replied dryly, “isn’t it supposed to be ‘hip hip, horaaay’?”

“Hip hip,” Shianni clapped her hands, “you’re ollllllllllllllllld.”

“You two are the absolute worst,” he groaned.

“We’re the absolute best worst,” Kallian grinned.

“But seriously,” Shianni said.

“Happy Name-Day Soris!” both of his cousins cheered in unison.

“We made you your favorite foods and a cake,” Kallian said.

“Thanks, you guys,” he grinned.

“So, you’re meeting with Valendrian about your upcoming betrothal soon, right?” Kallian asked.

“Ugh… Don’t remind me,” he groaned.

“Too late, already done,” Shianni said brightly.

“Just you wait until it’s your turn,” he grumbled, “also, I hate that one of you is looking at me with pity, and the other is trying not to laugh.”

“I can’t help it,” Kallian said a hand on her mouth, clearly trying to hold back her laughter.

“Same,” Shianni said, “I feel so bad for you.”

“Like I said,” Kallian replied waving a hand around laughingly, “we’ll be in your shoes in a few years.”

Both of his cousins were absolute jerks, but he wouldn’t have them any other way. Granted, he often felt out of place with both of them, they were both pretty huge focuses in the Alienage, meanwhile, he was painfully average compared to them. They both had the courage to conquer mountains, they were both personable and funny. 

Despite the fact that he often felt like he was the odd one out, he would always love both of his cousins dearly.

For some reason, Kallian was missing, so now he and Shianni were opening the lids of crates and barrels. The weather wasn’t warm, and there was no breeze, therefore chances were she was in either a crate or a barrel. Honestly, he was surprised her back and posture weren’t paying the price for her weird fascination with both types of containers. Sometimes, she was reading in a crate, sometimes she simply didn’t pay attention, and fell into a barrel while setting up a prank… 

Though, to be fair, that was more divine intervention than anything. Or retribution. Or both. 

Thinking about it, his cousin was far too good at simply disappearing and reappearing. If she didn’t vocally announce her presence you wouldn’t even know she was there.

“I found our dumb cat of a cousin,” Shianni called out, and Kallian popped her head out of the box she was occupying.

“Shianni, I am an Elf, mroooww,” Kallian yawned.

“An Elf shaped cat,” he offered.

“You two are the worst,” Kallian frowned.

“The best worst,” he said echoing her words from last week.

“…Touché.”

Supposedly, both of his cousins were out shopping in the Market District, since it was impossible for Alarith to stock everything. But he was still suspicious. Sure, Kallian actually was almost out of cooking ingredients, but whenever Kallian and Shianni were together somewhere where you couldn’t see them: you could be sure that something unfortunate was happening somewhere. It was only a question of where and what. Despite Kallian’s well-mannered disposition, both of his cousins were mischievous beyond reason.

“What’s wrong, Soris?” Taeodor asked, “you keep looking at everything suspiciously.”

“It’s Kallian and Shianni,” he replied, “they’re together, somewhere.”

“Oh…”

That was all that needed to be said, the infamous Fire Sisters weren’t just called Fire Sisters because they helped deal with fires. It was also because they were both energetic, and playful to a fault. Kallian’s influence also tended to spread like wildfire, especially with her affinity with children. Shianni was sometimes hot-tempered, and couldn’t keep her cool, letting her emotions out in explosive bursts. Shianni only saw Kallian as a center of attention, and Kallian only saw Shianni as a center. As someone, not a Fire Sister, he could see that they were both centers.

“Hey, Soris!” Kallian called, and he jumped.

“We’re gonna bake cookies,” Shianni said waving to him, “we got a good deal on flour and sugar today!”

“Do you want some?” Kallian asked.

“Yeah,” he waved back, “save some for me.”

“Can I get some too, please?” Taeodor asked.

“Sure thing!” Kallian replied brightly.

“You and your cousins are really close, aren’t you?” Taeodor said, “it’s rare to see any of you alone.”

“Yeah, we are… And as annoying as they can be at times, I wouldn’t trade them for the world.”

He really loved his cousins, they were the perfect mix of sweet and salty.

***

“Here you go, Elder,” she said handing blankets, sheets, and some new clothes for the orphanage over to Valendrian.

“Thank you, child,” Valendrian replied, “I was just thinking that we’d need to change them out soon.”

“Of course,” she replied, “it takes a village to raise a child.”

“That’s true,” Valendrian chuckled, “what do you have planned for the rest of the day?”

“I wanted to get some cleaning done, and then going shopping for ingredients… And while I’m cooking I’ll probably help Agatha mix some medicines together.”

“I can already see that you’ll make an excellent wife… especially if you can curb your mischievous tendencies.”

“But if I did that, then I wouldn’t be me anymore.”

Marriage again. 

She was hearing the word more, especially since Soris was at the age for it now. Of course, they’d associate marriage with the rest of his cousins, the three were rather close, rarely without each other… Well, all things in good time, she supposed.

“True,” Valendrian sighed, “well, off you go then.”

“See ya,” she said and waved goodbye as she moved to continue on with the rest of her day, flying through her chores with practiced ease, until she had a sudden realization… Besides eyebrows, elves don’t grow facial hair… Holy shit, part of her was grateful, and another part of her was pissed off. It was really weird. 

She was really beginning to wean off of her total memory from her past life, she just hoped she could retain the more important pearls of wisdom… Or at least she’s been here so long that she’s forgotten most of her past life’s experiences until sometimes some random piece of information popped into her head. 

Another realization that she’d had, was that she’d stopped comparing both worlds to each other. Which was fantastic news, because the her of that other world was physically dead and gone, and she should really focus on her life in this world. Especially, since it’s the one she’s currently alive in.

She’d probably keep comparing her different personalities, but that was honestly because it was actually pretty interesting, and she was curious to see what type of person she’ll become.

She was sitting in a tree, watching out for Soris. She was gonna get him good this time, she just knew it… Thinking about it, she had never been this much of a prankster in her past life.

“Boo!” she shouted gleefully, making sure her legs were secured on the branch she had been sitting on as she swung her upper body down so that now she was hanging upside down right in front of him.

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT KALLI!” Soris shouted.

“Ohhhh… I got an expletive out of you,” she clapped her hands together excitedly, maneuvering her body so that she landed on her feet in front of him, “how rare!”

“Why are you like this?” Soris groaned.

“I dunno, I was born with this personality.”

“You are going to be the death of me one day.”

“Life should be full of love and surprises.”

“…I wouldn’t be surprised if you were the death of yourself one day.”

“Well, at least I’ll be able to say I had a fun life.”

“True.”

“Are you coming over for dinner?”

“Sure, why not? At least you take cooking seriously.”

“I take everything seriously!”

“Really? I’m pretty sure you just fool around. All.The.Time. Or at least most of the time.”

“We take our fooling around quite seriously, Soris,” Shianni piped up.

“Exactly!” she said and both cousins snapped their fingers into a thumbs up.

“I hate you two sometimes,” Soris sighed, as both cousins flanked him and latched onto his arms.

“Only sometimes,” Shianni pointed out cheerfully.

“And you know we love you, Soris,” she grinned.

“Yeah, yeah,” Soris sighed, “I love you two, too.”

She loved Soris and Shianni like siblings because, at this point, they practically were. Shianni could be abrasive, and her fire ran hotter than hers, but underneath all her bluster and mischief, she was a romantic sap. Soris was a happy medium between the two of them, though he was more on the timid side. One of the reasons she and Shianni liked playing tricks on him, was to try and get him to be more assertive.

It wasn’t working… Perhaps they needed a new approach. This life was much different than her last, she had far less, but she found herself far happier regardless. Her community was strong, and always there for each other, which was something she appreciated more than anything… Though her past life was like that too. She was beginning to see the truth in the Dalai Lama’s words. Even if life was hard, even if she was poor, she always had everything she needed to be happy.

***

As Elves, they never had free reign over Denerim, every time they left the Alienage, they were under suspicion, and Kallian was rendered to dress like a boy to avoid… men. The only time where they could freely wander the streets of Denerim was at night when it was harder to pick them out from the shadows. They packed snacks and walked through alleyways, making sure to avoid gang hideouts, Kallian seemed to always know where they were, even if she no longer led men astray... Probably because she spent more time combing through the back alleys than they did. They clambered over rooftops while avoiding guards, helping each other up.

Sometimes, Soris came with them, sometimes Kallian went alone. It was a weekly ritual for her.

“Hey, Soris, Shianni,” Kallian hummed as they sat together, “have I ever told you why I like looking up at the stars?”

“Isn’t it just because they’re pretty?” she asked.

“Well, there’s that too… But some people like to believe that we become stars when we die,” Kallian replied.

“…So you like to imagine that your Mother is up there watching over you, don’t you?” Soris said thoughtfully.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’ll never look at the night sky the same way ever again,” she replied.

“Is that good or bad?”

“Good,” she grinned, “because now I know where to look when I’m missing my Mother.”

“I feel the same way,” Soris agreed, “whenever I’m missing my parents… I’ll just look to the night sky.”

“Glad I could help.”

“Where did you hear that, anyway?” she asked.

“I read it in a book.”

Star-gazing became a weekly ritual for all three of them.

And all they wanted was for these peaceful days to continue.

“Hey,” Kallian said as looked up at the stars, “I have a request.”

“Wuzzat?” she replied.

“When I die, don’t cremate me,” Kallian replied thoughtfully, “bury me with a sapling.”

“Why?” Soris asked, “are you dying?”

“We’re all dying, just at different rates,” Kallian stuck her tongue out, “which is why we should make every moment last… But that aside, that sapling will one day grow into a tree, yeah?”

“If no one sets it on fire or cuts it down,” she replied, “also you call me a romantic sap, yet here you are.”

“In my opinion, you’re both romantic saps.”

“Well, I want to be a romantic sapling then,” Kallian grinned.

“Ughhh… you’re the worst,” she and Soris groaned in unison.

“Anyway, even in death, there can be life,” Kallian said wistfully, “I’ll be able to live on in the tree… And if you’re ever missing me, you can just sit under the tree and pretend it’s me.”

“…That actually sounds kind of nice,” she said thoughtfully.

“Right?”

***

Soris and Shianni were out and about, Soris was talking to Valendrian about his upcoming betrothal, and Shianni was… somewhere, likely hanging out with the girl she was dating. Luckily, she didn’t have to worry about marriage quite yet, she was only eighteen, and generally, people married at twenty-one.

Currently she was knitting blankets for the children at the orphanage, writing out a quick checklist of all the things she wanted to accomplish this week. She wanted to sew together new sheets, and clothes for both herself and for the orphanage. Shianni would want new clothes soon, too. 

There were plants she needed to tend to, and herbs she needed to set out to dry before grinding them down to replenish her stock; medicines didn’t make themselves, and Agatha needed the extra hands.

“Kallian,” Father said, “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Okay?” she hummed stretching out her knitting.

“I know it’s early,” Father said carefully, “but I think it’s time for you to get married.”

“Huh? But I’m only eighteen,” she said as she dropped her knitting needles, “are you okay, Father?”

Either she or her Father weren’t okay, and that was not good. There should be nothing wrong with her, but her Father? Was he sick? Was he going to die? Was she going to die? Actually, did she mess up somewhere? That was far more likely. Was this way of keeping her out of Denerim and to avoid whatever mess she was involved in? She hadn’t led people down alleyways in years, and her mind raced wondering exactly what was going on. 

Clearly, something was up, and not knowing what worried her; she had always hated not knowing things. Even in her past life, she was an intellectual anxiety sponge, and though she’d lost most of those aspects of her in this life, it still showed itself every now and again.

“I’m fine,” Father replied reassuringly, “but you’ve heard news of the situation in Ferelden, I’m sure.”

“Something about a Blight?” she replied as she tapped her chin in thought, she never really heard much about the world outside Denerim. She also had no clue what a Blight was in this world. Was it just an illness? Or something more? Valendrian didn’t tell them much about things occurring outside the Alienage, likely to keep them from stupidly running out and getting themselves killed; granted, she got a lot of information from Alarith, so there was that. 

Valendrian’s goal was always to keep them safe, but she’d heard that the King rode out of Denerim a week ago and that he was amassing his army at Ostagar… Wherever that was. She was a little concerned but trusted that everything would all work out in the end.

“Yes, as such, Valendrian and I have decided that it would be time for you to start your own life… Before it’s too late.”

“That sounds… ominous,” she frowned. 

In a story, this would be a death flag. She’d already lost her Mother, Uncle, and Aunt, she wasn’t emotionally ready to lose another important family member. Then again, was anyone ever really emotionally ready to lose a family member? Death wasn’t really something you could do something about, it was always looming around every corner. Or something along those lines, truly, any slip up could kill you at any second… She missed her dog.

“It’ll be fine,” Father replied, “I’ve already found you a match.”

“This conversation is going places, and I’m not sure I can keep up,” she replied holding up a hand, “I’m getting married this year, and you’ve already found me my future husband?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“In two months, the same day as Soris.”

Everything was happening too fast, way too fast. She was having issues wrapping her head around this. Marriage was something in her future, sure, she knew that, but this was happening much earlier than she’d envisioned. Granted, there was nothing she could do about it now, she could kick and scream but it wouldn’t do her any good. 

Might as well roll with it and keep herself from stressing out about it, so instead, she took a deep breath, held it, and then let it out, and idly drew circles on the table with her index finger as she processed this information. She was highly aware of her Father’s eyes on her as she stewed on this information a bit. 

He was holding his breath worried about how she’d react to this bit of news. He had nothing to worry about, she wouldn’t refuse. On the other hand, it was the type of informational bomb that would make anyone anxious. This whole Blight business was really throwing her off, then again, she had told Shianni, that even the best-laid plans can go awry. Whelp, wrench, meet works. 

Actually, she should make a side note to look up what a Blight was after this whole wedding thing was over and done with. For now, she had enough books to read, and she was also already busy… Why hadn’t she considered that earlier? Ah, right, she was an idiot. Then again, she wasn’t made of money, she had to seriously save up to buy books. Information was never a cheap commodity, especially given how important it is.

“Why can’t I choose who I marry again?”

“Tradition, child. With so little contact between Alienages and so few chances to travel, you must trust your elders.”

“I see… I’m surprised you found me a fiancé who doesn’t mind my scars and everything.”

“About that… I didn’t tell him that your Mother taught you how to fight,” Father replied sheepishly, “so don’t tell him quite yet.”

“Did you tell him about my scars?”

“Yes, it’ll be much harder to hide those after all… And you still don’t like looking at them.”

“I really don’t,” she sighed. 

It wasn’t that she was ashamed of them, she was actually quite proud of them; they were proof of her accomplishments. Her reason for hiding them, however, was something she didn’t want to think about. There were times when she could still feel the heat of the fire on her skin, taste the leather she’d bit down on as they peeled the cloth of her sleeves from them, hear the screams, smell the scent of her own flesh burning… 

There were many unpleasant sensations that were forever associated with them. Before she hadn’t had the physical reminder of the riots, they had eventually become bad dreams. With scars, she could remember everything just by looking at them. They would pass, in time, she knew that, but for now, it was still too fresh in her mind. 

Sometimes she still dreamt of her powerlessness, dreamt of her family dying in a fire. She didn’t understand why the fire that had taken everything from her still enchanted her.

“In any case, I've got a letter for you,” Father said handing her the letter, “from him, his name is Nelaros.”

“Okay,” she replied.

Taking the letter, she began sliding her finger under the seal to open it when the door slammed open, causing her sigh and place it on the table as she turned to look at her cousin; she had a feeling it was about to get annoying. Don’t get her wrong, she loved her cousin dearly, but sometimes she could do without her high energy.

Like right now, actually. Especially since her cousin was never getting married, she knew that, and she supported it. Whenever talk came up about it, she always steered the conversation away from it.

“KALLI! I HEARD THE NEWS!” Shianni shouted.

“Did you now?” she replied dryly leaning on her head on her hand as she regarded her cousin.

“Congratulations!” Shianni said brightly, “I’m so excited for you.”

“Yaaay for me,” she cheered monotonously waving her hands up in the air, of course, making sure to hold her sleeves to her palms with her middle and ring fingers.

“You sound like Soris,” Shianni said.

“Oh, good, I’m not the only one,” Soris sighed from behind Shianni.

“At least you were expecting it,” she frowned, “I wasn’t.”

“Is that a letter from him?” Shianni asked ignoring both her and Soris’s attitudes.

“So it would seem,” she replied.

“Read it!” Shianni demanded, “now! Quick!”

“Holy shit, Shianni, calm down,” she sighed and opened the envelope she’d been handed, “am I moving to wherever he is? Or staying here?”

“He’ll be moving here, from Highever,” Father answered, “and don’t worry, I made sure that he’s nice, and will treat you well.”

“I had no doubts about that,” she replied while reading the letter, fully aware that Shianni was reading it over her shoulder. She had always been a romantic.

“Of course you’re staying in Denerim,” Soris pointed out, “the day Valendrian lets you leave is the day the world ends.”

“He was speaking about making you our next _hahren_ ,” Shianni added, “a decision which I agree with.”

“Not gonna say that I didn’t see that coming,” she replied.

“Are you going to write a reply?” Shianni asked.

“Might as well,” she replied moving to grab parchment, her quill, an inkpot, and then began penning her reply.

Suddenly, she felt excitement lace through her heart: was this how she was going to be reunited with her pupper? She still missed her dearly. The change of environment had helped, she didn’t see traces of her everywhere she went, and wasn’t constantly reminded that she wasn’t with her anymore… What she wouldn’t give to see her doggo again, now that she was thinking about her again, the hurt came back, but the hope that she’d see her again soon soothed the pain.

They’d begun sending each other letters back and forth, and the more she learned about him the more she could see a future with him. She found herself wondering about what kind of daily routines they would have together; what kind of food did he like? Was he fiscally responsible? Despite the abruptness of it all, she found herself getting excited. Even if he wasn’t her fated one, she could see herself living a happy life with him. It did worry her a bit though, what if he wasn’t her fated one? What if she met him later on? Some soul-mates didn’t work out because of reasons like this. Sometimes their lifestyles just weren’t compatible. It’d probably all work out in the end… 

Even if Nelaros wasn’t him and she met him later, she would remain faithful and stay with Nelaros. Through the letters they sent each other, she found out that he’s the youngest son of a blacksmith, and that he was also an accomplished smith. A normal life, with a normal person, that was the life she wanted to live. Still, this would be her first time as a bride, in either lifetime so she still had absolutely no idea what to make of this situation.

“Are you sure you can still live a normal life after everything?” Shianni asked one day as they were leaning on each other, back to back.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she replied continuing to read her book as Shianni knitted a sweater.

“Just that… you know… you’ve never really been what one would consider normal.”

“I’m feeling attacked,” she frowned and put down her book to play with the ball of yarn Shianni was using to knit.

“Well, you are the Deadly Faerie of the Denerim Alienage, and stop playing with my ball of yarn.”

“What’s with that? And no."

She continued tormenting Shianni by rolling her ball of yarn around, quickly getting in touch with her inner feline; she might be in trouble, she wanted to find a nice warm roof to take a nap on. After shifting positions, she tucked her skirt beneath her and opened her book back up while mindlessly toying with the ball of yarn with her free hand. 

In hindsight, they should probably finish sewing her dress. Wedding dresses were a nightmare to sew, and they only had another month… But they were a pain to sew and she didn’t feel like getting back to it just quite yet.

“So, when are you getting married?”

“Nevar! I will never get married!”

She frowned bowed her head down and then quickly lifted it again, slamming the back of her head into Shianni’s.

“OW! You bitch!”

“Wa-ah-ah.”

“You know, you look especially faerie-like with your hair long, it’ll go with your wedding dress well.”

“I’m about to bash you in the head again.”

“I wish you’d put it up more, rather than that low ponytail you wear over your shoulder… though I do like the white ribbon.”

“I’m about to bash you in the head again.”

“Please, don’t.”

“Then stop talking about it my appearance.”

“But you’re so— OW! ANDRASTE’S FUCKING TITS KALLI!” she cut Shianni’s sentence off by bashing her head into hers again.

“I warned you.”

“By the way, can you teach me how to apply make-up?”

“Maybe later, you don’t need it.”

“Neither do you, but you wear it anyway.”

“That’s kind of you to say, but I don’t wear it for other people, I wear it for me,” she replied, she wore her make-up in the exact same style of her past life. Very light, but still noticeable; but then she also didn’t feel comfortable without the mask of it. It had always been her armor, a way to tell herself that she needed to calm her tits; jewelry had functioned much the same for her, “so why do you want me to teach you?”

“To look pretty?” Shianni replied.

“For yourself or others?”

“Hmm… Good question.”

“I’ll teach you when you answer it, so think about it carefully: why do you want to wear it?”

Shianni is perfect just the way she is.

***

“Shianni,” a crate called.

“…How did you get stuck this time?”

“I am not stuck, I needed a hiding spot, and fell asleep.”

“…Why are you such a cat?”

“Who knows, nyaaa, this crates on the bigger side, so there’s room for one more myaaa. Join me?”

“And if we both get stuck?”

“We have one more lifeline: his name is Soris.”

“I’ll pass,” she replied, honestly, she was kind of curious as to why her dumb cousin liked crates and barrels so much. Though, she would never admit it out loud, “how is your posture still good?”

“Stretching, and I keep my back straight as much as possible,” Kallian replied hauling herself out of the crate she was occupying wiggling her body to the left and right and stretching out all her joints, “like that.”

“I see.”

She and Kallian had been sewing her wedding dress off and on, but they’d spent too much time messing around, and now they were pressed for time. They were practically sewing non-stop. They chose white, because, well, it’s a wedding dress, with delicate embroidery. She stitched little flowers into it and made sure that the sleeves were long and properly covered up Kallian’s burn scars and tattoos. She still kept them covered up with bandages, saying that they make her _too memorable_ despite the fact that she was memorable just standing there. 

They had to skip out on practicing their weaponry since wedding dresses were a pain to sew, but they handled it. Though not being able to move as much as she liked was frustrating to Kallian, who had decided to bottle up many of her emotions, and currently had no way to release them.

“Shianni, why are you making it so low cut in the front?”

“To show off your assets.”

“Uggghhh, Shianni, no, cover that shit up.”

“Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine… Honestly, I’m just glad you have some tits now."

“Fuck off. Fuck, ow.”

“Did you prick yourself again?” she sighed.

“I’m nervous, okay!?” Kallian practically shouted.

“You have no reason to be.”

“What if he doesn’t like me? What if I don’t like him?”

“Stop worrying about the ‘what ifs’ and hurry up and help me finish sewing your dress, we have three days to finish it! THREE DAYS!”

“I KNOW SHIANNI! I AM AWARE OF WHEN I’LL BE GETTING MARRIED, OKAY?”

“Less shouting more sewing.”

“Don’t tell me how to live my life.”

“Maker’s breath, Kalli, we have three days!”

“Maybe I should run away.”

“Kalli, it’ll be fine! Stop worrying!”

“Ow! Fuck!”

“Andraste’s tits, Kalli,” she groaned, “calm down!”

“I CAN’T OKAY? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT TO HEAR? I CAN’T CALM DOWN!”

“Deep breaths.”

“You’re not the one getting married in three days.”

“I’m so going to make fun of you for this for the rest of our lives.”

“Thanks, bitch.”

“Of course, bitch.”

With that, Kallian calmed down and went back to sewing. She could easily do the most elegant embroidery that she’d ever seen, so this really shouldn’t even be hard for her. Though she’d probably be the same if she were going to get married soon, it was just a thing people did. Soris seemed nervous as well, both of them were eating a lot less, and not because they wanted to watch their weight, it was the kind of self-starvation that happened when you were anxious. 

They were both so nervous it was hilarious, though she wasn’t used to being the stable calm one, usually, that was either Soris or Kallian’s job, they were better at keeping a level head. It probably didn’t help that Kallian wasn’t able to practice her martial abilities since they needed to get this done as quickly as possible.

She was sure that Kallian would be happy married, she was just that type. Not only that, but Kallian kind of, sort of, had a reputation as the ideal wife. In hindsight, that was actually really weird, both she and Kallian were absolute infamous trouble-makers. Then again, everything about her cousin was kind of really weird. 

Her cousin was a strange woman, she was often surprised by how much she knew, though she was also often surprised at how much she didn’t know. How innocent she was despite leading men to their deaths, or muggings was beyond her. If the guards were ever brought to the gang hideouts, they had never seen her and was considered a hallucination to the ones she’d baited. 

Whenever she left the Alienage for normal reasons, she always dressed like a boy and hid her hair beneath a hat. It was one of the other reasons why she was called a faerie, or a spirit, or any sort of ephemeral entity, no one outside of the Alienage could either prove or disprove her existence. Though some people regarded her existence as that of a demon. 

A careful woman, yet so innocent. It made her feel like she needed to protect her, despite the fact that she could definitely protect herself. Not only that, but people tended to want to monopolize Kallian’s attention, she and Soris were no different. She was already feeling a little lonely about the fact that Kallian was getting married, but she was really happy for her. She wanted all the best for her; she deserved that much, at least. She should probably tell her future husband that Kallian likes to hide in crates and barrels.

She was also sure that Soris would be happy married, he needed someone to give him that extra push, to be there for him, and she hoped that his betrothed would be able to be that for him. Both she and Kallian weren’t always going to be able to back him up, but he was the type who wavered between wanting to do the right thing and cowardice. 

He tried to be more courageous, he really did, it just… usually got hidden by his anxiety. Soris was far shyer than either of them, and sometimes he made it a point not to be around them, likely to avoid being noticed too much, since the Fire Sisters were famous, or infamous, anyway. They both knew that Soris often felt inadequate while next to them, and they really wished that he didn’t. But, instead of pushing their presence on him, they let him have his space when he wanted it.

“I want to punch something,” Kallian declared as she continued to embroider the dress, her fingers masterfully maneuvering thread and needle along. Personally, she didn’t have the patience for it; in fact, she didn’t have the patience for most things. If it wasn’t for Kallian, she wouldn’t be doing this.

“Just don’t punch me,” she replied

“Damn.”

“Since when were you so violent?”

“Since I’m apparently getting married in three days and it’s freaking me out.”

“Are you going to be abusive to your future husband?”

“Of course not, I’m not a violent person."

“Then what will you do when you’re angry with him?”

“I don’t know, go lead people to their deaths in the back alleys of Denerim?”

“I don’t think he’d be happy to hear you say that."

“How often do I even get angry?”

“…Not very, and pissing you off is hard. I’ve tried."

“I know you have."

“Though, when you actually get there, you transition from a mostly harmless prankster, into an absolute monster.”

“You shouldn’t push nice people to their limits. We’re the most terrifying of all. You’ll never see it coming.”

“True. Making you cry, on the other hand, is much easier."

“You’re a terrible person."

“But you cry over everything— when you’re happy when you’re sad… You just cry whenever you get overcome with extreme emotion."

“Yeah, well, fuck you too."

“But it’s adorable."

“Shut your face."

“Do you think he’s nervous too?”

“Probably, I mean I am. If he’s not nervous and I’m getting anxious all on my own I’m going to be pissed."

“Then maybe you should calm down."

Kallian sighed as she moved her embroidery hoop; she was glad she didn’t have to worry about sewing and embroidering her own dress. Thank the Maker she would never be getting married. She enjoyed the celebrations, but being the center of attention like that was not something she liked. Sometimes she didn’t even want to hang out with Kallian because of how much attention she called to herself. 

When she was alone, Kallian’s presence was basically air. If she wasn’t with anyone or had mentally checked out of a conversation she could literally be standing in the center of a room, and you wouldn’t notice her. She could even be moving about the room, and you wouldn’t notice her. But the second she was with someone and actively interacting with them, she became a blazing inferno that was absolutely incapable of being ignored.

“You ever feel like you just want to watch the whole world burn?”

“…Maker’s breath Kalli, calm your fucking tits already.”

She didn’t always understand her cousin, but she didn’t need to understand her to love her.


	5. How the Cat Was Naive

Somehow they managed to finish sewing her dress in time, it was a miracle, really. Most of her experiences in her past life have long since faded, she retained the knowledge she’d learned, even if she didn’t know when and where she learned it. She wished she didn’t though, she also wished she’d forgotten far earlier in her life; granted, it kept her from losing her shit in her early years. 

She’d seen so much death already, so many burned houses, and charred corpses had seen people cut down; though perhaps she should have forgotten everything, and grown desensitized to it all at a much younger age, though she’d already gotten there by the time she was fourteen. Well, it was too late to do anything about it now.

Her Father had been trying to reassure her that everything would be alright, and she knew it would be, she trusted him. Right now, Shianni was trying to calm her down enough so that she could sleep, but shit was hard, she’d heard about this before, cold feet, or something… right? Her Father had told her that before he got married, he had been ready to hunt for the Dalish… But he loved her Mother, and he never regretted staying in Denerim, he loved his life with her. 

Her Mother had brought him so much joy and it was a life he wanted for her. 

He wanted to see her happy, he wanted the best for her. That was something she appreciated, the Father of her past life, loved her too, and wanted the best for her as well… but she should stop thinking about her past life so much, let it be the past; that her was, quite literally, dead.

Soris was also nervous, equally excited, and equally scared. She was sure her Father, Valendrian, and Shianni had their hands full trying to calm them both down. Telling them both not to worry about the ‘buts’, and the ‘what ifs’. Both cousins knew it would be alright, and that things would work out just fine… Though, both of them were really afraid of turning into a bitter shrew-like Elva.

“Do you think you’ll fall in love with him?” Shianni asked.

“I’m already there.”

“I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful life with him, so stop worrying.”

“Were it only that easy,” she sighed heavily.

“Kalli… I think we gotta get you drunk,” Shianni said wryly.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because you’ve been pacing back and forth for the past… forever. Your wedding is tomorrow, you need to sleep so that you don’t fall asleep during your own ceremony.”

“Urgh… Don’t… tell me how to live my life…?”

“Go to sleep.”

“I’ll try,” she sighed and allowed Shianni to pull her into bed.

Whenever they had trouble sleeping because of emotions they slept in the same bed to comfort each other and soothe the other's worries. She felt a little lonely with the thought that this is probably the last time they’d be doing this. The role would most likely be taken by her future husband. Oh, wow, she was actually getting married, for the first time in either lifetimes… 

Actually she’d never even gotten to the engaged stage, her past self had a strong dislike of people and was quite happy derping around at her own pace, many of her friends had gotten married and she had fun at their weddings and stuff, but she didn’t really see that in her own future. Though, perhaps it was because her past self didn’t care about actual romance. 

She was in love with love, she loved romantic stories, but having it for herself wasn’t really her shtick. Even here, she didn’t really care much for having a relationship of her own. Maybe she just hadn’t met the right guy, plus, she wasn’t really into younger men… And all of the men in the Alienage, acted like they were younger than her… Or at least her twenty-three-year-old self, and she wasn’t really into that. 

With a sigh she closed her eyes and gave in to sleep, thankful that at least she wasn’t an insomniac in this life.

***

For some reason, Duncan had felt the need to go to Denerim, and after seeing to it that the rest of the Wardens had left for Ostagar, parted ways with them. Honestly, he couldn’t believe there was an actual Blight, he knew they were a thing, but he didn’t expect one to actually happen in _his_ lifetime.

Dreams of the Archdemon were terrifying, but it was a duty that he had to fulfill as a Grey Warden, he chose this life, and he had to take responsibility for it. For now, all he could do was train with the other Wardens, and dodge Daveth and Ser Jory’s questions about the Joining. King Cailan, his secret half-brother showed up at the Warden encampment fairly frequently, watching the Wardens, and talking to them. He clearly respected them, but he, himself, was awkward and didn’t know how to go about talking to his half-brother, and so he just made it a point not to.

***

Great, Arl Howe was visiting. Personally, she’d never liked him, but her Father trusted him so it would be best for her to be cordial. It was hinted that she might be betrothed to Thomas in the future, he was a nice man and decidedly nothing like his father, so she didn’t really oppose it. If he tried anything, she had no doubt that she could take him. Her Father and Arl Howe would ride out tomorrow, while Fergus would be leaving tonight. She could handle the castle while they were gone; that was a thing she could do, she’d been trained to be a noble from birth. This was second nature to her by now. So after collecting her dog and dealing with other guests, she moved on with her day.

Still, a Blight? And while the best blacksmith in Highever’s youngest son was getting married? Ooph. At least he was marrying into a good family, or at least that’s what the servants gossiped about. She’d picked up bits and pieces like apparently he was marrying the daughter of Cyrion Tabris; a name even she knew of, Bann Rodolf was a strict man, but even he praised Cyrion. According to the rumors, his daughter was beautiful, skilled, and agreeable; and she kind of wanted to meet her, and if she was as skilled as she was rumored to be, maybe even hire her.

***

Kallian was still sleeping, both she and her Uncle decided to let her sleep in for the day; granted, she still had to wake up eventually. It was unlike her cousin to sleep in, though her staying up late at night was also fairly rare. They would probably wake her up soon, though, they definitely wouldn’t let her sleep in until past ten. Eventually, she’d heard Nelaros was at the gates of Denerim, prompting her to rush home and wake her dumb cat of a cousin up.

“KALLI!” she shouted startling her awake.

“Mmmnnrrghhh,” Kallian groaned before sitting up, “…Shianni… what? Wait… you woke up before me? Is the world ending?”

“Oh ha-ha,” she grumbled as Kallian got out of bed, “you’re the one who overslept.”

“I did?” Kallian mumbled as she went to go wash her face and get the last dredges of sleep out of her system.

“Yes… You do remember what today is, right? Please tell me you remember what today is.”

Silence as Kallian splashed her face with water and then wiped her face dry.

“Wedding,” Kallian replied finally as she continued to go about her waking up process, brushing her hair, putting it up loosely, and brushing her teeth.

“Yes,” she grinned, “it’s Nelaros! He’s here!”

“He is?!” Kallian immediately stood up straight after quickly rinsing out her mouth, turning to look at her; her face colored with both apprehension and excitement. She almost felt like she needed to squint from how absolutely annoyingly blinding her cousin was.

“Yesss, I snuck a peak and he’s handsome,” she said wrapping her in a hug, “I’m so excited for you! I’ll go lay out your dress, and find my dress, and you should go meet him, and maybe look for Soris.”

With that, she began quickly moving about the room, while Kallian put on a nicer dress, but not her wedding dress because they wanted this to be as auspicious as possible.

“I’m not emotionally prepared!” Kallian said freaking out.

“It’s going to happen anyway,” she laughed, “so hold your breath and jump in! Now put on your clothes and move it!”

***

She put her dress on, braided her hair over her shoulder, tied it with her white ribbon, and walked out of her room.

“Ah, my little girl,” Father sighed wrapping her in a hug, “it’s… the last day I’ll be able to call you that, isn’t it?”

“No matter how old I am,” she replied, “I’m fairly certain that I’ll always be your little girl.”

The Mother from her past life had frequently told her that. No matter how old she got, she’d always be her baby.

“That’s true,” Father chuckled, “I wish your Mother could have been here…”

“I do as well,” she replied sadly.

“You know I want only the best for you, right?” Father said pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Of course I do.”

“Alright, time for you to go find Soris,” Father chuckled, “the sooner this wedding starts, the less chance you two have to escape.”

“I won’t escape,” she rolled her eyes, “Soris on the other hand… A small chance is still a chance.”

“Exactly… And remember, he still doesn’t know about your martial training… Or your history of trouble-making.”

“Yesss, Fatherrrr.”

“Of course, he’ll find out sooner rather than later.”

“Though, Mother was a clever rogue.”

“Yes… That she was,” Father said solemnly, she could tell he still loved her, still missed her, and that he would continue to do so until his last breath.

“It’s okay, Father,” she beamed, “I’m sure I’ll be happy.”

“I am as well,” Father said, before pulling out a pair of leather boots, “take this, your Mother would have wanted you to have it. It’s the very least I can give you, as you start your new life.”

“I hope I’ll be able to walk in her footsteps with these.”

“I’m sure you will… Go on then, I still have some things I need to get done, and Soris is no doubt waiting for you.”

“I’ll be off then, Father,” she said waving as she left the house a small smile playing on her lips as excitement bubbled in her chest. 

He was here, she would finally be able to meet him for the first time, and not only that but as she was eighteen now, she would no doubt be meeting her doggo again soon. Right? Right. She wondered what kind of dog she’d come back as, and just hoped that it wasn’t a small dog. She was partial to large dogs, and she wasn’t sure if Chi-chan could handle being in a smaller body… She on the other hand… was around the same height in both lifetimes.

“Oh, there once was a woman; she lived in the sea,” the drunkard by the name of Donal, was saying with a lilt, and she felt her eye twitch, “I didn’t love her, but I think she loved me. I brought her diamonds, rubies, silver, and gold— Well, hello, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

“Hello,” she said cheerfully, did this man not know her? The Alienage was a pretty close community, so it was a little surprising… especially since she knew him, “just y’know doing the rounds. Collecting wedding presents.”

“Oh… Oh!” Donal said in wide-eyed shock, and she could tell that he sobered up a tiny bit, “we… uh… thought that, uhhhmm…”

“We thought cash would be better,” his friend, Ulick, said saving him, while his other friend, Shane, fell down on his ass, “spends easier!”

“Right… Right! Yeah, we gathered up… uh… thirty bits!” Donal said latching onto the lifeline Ulick threw him, “that’s a pretty good wedding present for anyone.”

“That it is,” Shane said getting back on his feet.

“Much better than a present, yes?” Ulick said.

“Well… forty bits is more traditional…” she replied, if they didn’t call her out on it, maybe they shouldn’t be drinking so early in the day.

“Oh, you’re right,” Shane replied, “don’t mind us… We’re a bit tipsy. Here’s ten bits to top it off.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, a bit tipsy? A bit? They were so drunk, so very, very drunk. Well, hopefully, that’ll keep them from drinking so much so early in the day.

“Now, you go celebrate your big day, and we’ll do the same!” Shane replied, prompting her to leave them to their drunken idiocy. With her back turned to them, she stuck her tongue out mischievously as she walked towards the Alienages gathering place.

Honestly, they shouldn’t be this drunk this early. Elva was going to kill him, she was probably especially pissed off today, and she was not looking forward to talking to her… Elva was… so bitter about her own marriage arrangement, and really hated when others had a better, much happier marriage. 

Though, honestly, with a husband like Donal, she didn’t really blame her. Trotting off and resuming her quest to find her cousin, though, it looked like Nessa and her family were in trouble by the _vhenadahl_. They looked like they were packing off to leave, and suddenly she remembered hearing about a landlord selling a building for storage… Oh no, it was their building.

“Hurry up, child,” Nessa’s Father chastised, “waiting around won’t make it any easier.”

“Hello,” she said greeting them, and Nessa’s Father turned to her.

“Many blessings, young one,” Nessa’s Father replied, “we hoped to stay for the celebration, but we must be off.”

“I trust you’ve heard that the Human who owns our building has decided to sell it for storage space?” Nessa’s Mother asked.

“Yes,” she nodded solemnly, “I have… Where are you planning on going to?”

“Well, we can’t afford to live anywhere else here,” Nessa’s Father replied, “so we’re leaving Denerim.”

“We’re headed for the Ostagar ruins,” Nessa said, she was absolutely despondent, “the army camp there is calling for laborers.”

“We wanted to look for work in Highever,” Nessa’s Mother added.

“But that’s just not possible,” Nessa’s Father finished.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.

“You’re still a child, you can’t do anything,” Nessa’s Father replied, internally, she held herself from pointing out that today was her last day as a child, “enjoy your special day, and put us out of your mind.”

“What my husband means is, it’s very generous of you to offer,” Nessa’s Mother translated, “but we don’t need charity to solve our problems.”

“If you’re sure…” she replied, “then I understand, good luck to you.”

“Many thanks,” Nessa’s Father replied, “and again, blessings on your day.”

She turned to leave with a heavy heart, it was always sad to see people leaving, especially due to circumstances they couldn’t help.

“Wait,” Nessa said stopping her, “can I talk to you a moment?”

“Sure,” she nodded and they moved to the other side of the _vhenadahl_.

“I apologize for my parents,” Nessa sighed, “you know how they are… Too proud to accept help, much less ask for it.”

“Yeah…”

“My parents will labor in the army camp,” Nessa said, and she could instantly see where this was going, she _had_ to do something. There was a reason she’d led men astray all those years ago, and it was to stop bullshit like this from happening, “and they’ll expect me to do the same… but… Kalli, please help me.”

“I’ll try talking to them,” she said comfortingly, “maybe… maybe you can stay with my Father… We’ll get through this. Promise.”

“If you think it’ll help…”

“But no promises,” she said wryly and prayed that her Father would forgive her for asking without consulting him first, she couldn’t take too long, they might be gone by the time she returned, “but I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you.”

“Uhmmm,” she said tentatively, “sorry to bother you, again.”

“Isn’t your wedding soon?” Nessa’s Father asked.

“I was just wondering if I could speak to you about your daughter,” she replied confidently, “I think I have a way that she can stay here.”

“I don’t take advice from children,” Nessa’s Father replied, “nor do I plan to split up my family.”

“Well, since I’m getting married, I’ll most likely be moving out of my Father’s home,” she explained, “therefore, I was simply wondering if you would allow Nessa to stay with him in order to help him as Nelaros and I begin our new life together. It would ease my worries a great deal.”

“I see,” Nessa’s Father replied, “then he’d shelter and provide for my daughter?”

“Yes,” she replied decisively, she can’t show weakness or be unsure, any opening is still an opening, after all.

“I don’t know,” Nessa’s Father replied, she could see him wavering on it, “what do you think, love?”

“Well, she’d be among family,” Nessa’s Mother replied she mentally fist-pumped herself, “when we’ve made enough, we can return.”

“And you, child?”

“Your will, Father.”

“That’s my girl,” Nessa’s Father replied, “very well, first she’ll help us be away, and then return to stay with your family. Thank your Father for me.”

“No, thank you,” she smiled, ignoring her instincts that were screaming at her to bow, “I really appreciate you doing this for us.”

“I’ve always appreciated how well-mannered you were,” Nessa’s Mother smiled.

With a wave, she made the trek back home, she just hoped her Father wouldn’t be too angry with her. Though, he was just about as understanding and compassionate as she was… Actually, besides her past life, that’s absolutely where she got it. Even though she loved mischief and mayhem, sometimes her instincts were screaming at her to not make a scene. 

It was a very Japanese thing, she’d always hated being around her friends when they were being loud and boisterous in public. Internally, she’d just always screamed _don’tmakeascenedon’tmakeascenedon’tmakeascene_ while quietly putting some distance between them. Truthfully, she just hated being an inconvenience, especially in public. Like when they blocked hallways or talked too loudly…

Thinking about it she would probably make a good servant. She should look for work as one in the coming months, maybe her Father could give her recommendations, she could be both a bodyguard and a maid. It would be a pretty perfect fit for her, it would be a good use for the entire repertoire of her skills and abilities.

“Don’t you have a wedding to prepare for?” Father chuckled as she walked back in, “have you found Soris yet?”

“No, I haven’t,” she shook her head, “but… uhm… I kind of told Nessa and her family that she could stay with you.”

“Nessa?” Father quirked a brow, “I thought her family was leaving for the army camp… Ah… I see. You never were the type who could sit still when you saw injustice.”

“Sorry,” she apologized.

“No, no. Your compassion has always been one of your greatest strengths,” Father replied patting her on the head, making sure not to mess up her hair, “I suppose she can stay. She is family, after all, and if we don’t stick up for each other, who will?”

“Thank you,” she smiled, “I’ll go look for Soris now.”

“You do that,” Father smiled.

She wandered back the Alienage square, wondering where her dear sweet cousin could possibly be hiding. As she looked around she saw two familiar people, standing by the stage. Aunt Dilwyn, and Uncle Gethon, she hadn’t seen them in a long time. They lived in the Alienage in Gwaren, it was hard for them to come to visit; she hadn’t seen them since her Mother’s funeral.

“Well, it’s around the eyes, mostly,” Dilwyn said.

“I still don’t see it,” Gethon replied, “whenever I look, I just see the mother.”

“…They are both rather delicate looking,” Dilwyn conceded.

“It’s the same sort of nose,” Gethon said, as she patiently waited to go greet them, “you must admit that. The breeding shows.”

“Ugh, there you go again with breeding,” Dilwyn sighed in frustration, “we’re not horses, you know.”

“Of course not, but bloodlines are important. That’s all I’m saying!”

“I think the whole notion is ridiculous.”

“Well, you’ve got the freedom to think so,” Gethon replied, and she saw her chance, “you come from good stock.”

“Hello,” she greeted them with a smile.

“Well, if it isn’t the lucky bride herself,” Dilwyn smiled, “hello dear.”

“Do you remember us?” Gethon asked.

“Of course, Aunt Dilwyn and Uncle Gethon.”

“It means the world to us that you remember us,” Dilwyn said, “we haven’t seen much of you since… she…”

“Passed away,” she finished solemnly, “Father really loves her.”

“We all do,” Gethon replied.

“Adaia was beautiful and full of life,” Dilwyn added, “and a bit wild… much like you.”

“She wanted you more than anything,” Gethon said, “it’s sad she never got to see you all grown up.”

“We just wanted to see you today,” Dilwyn said, “and express our good wishes.”

“I really appreciate you making the journey here for my wedding,” she smiled, “it means the world to me.”

“And it means the world to us to see you happy,” Dilwyn replied.

“We’ve saved a bit of money for this day,” Gethon said holding out a small purse, “we’d… we’d like you to have it, to help start your new life.”

“Oh, no,” she said, habits kicking in, refuse once, then accept on the second offer, “as much as I appreciate it, I can’t accept this.”

“Please, we want you to have it,” Dilwyn replied.

“If you insist,” she replied, “then I will humbly accept this gift. Thank you.”

“You’re so much like your Father this way,” Dilwyn chuckled.

“Maker bless you,” Gethon added.

“You as well,” she smiled.

Why did she still have these habits? That part of her should be literally dead, nature and nurture in equal parts, she reckoned. The personality of her old life rarely kicked in, but when it did dear gods did it ever kick in… She should probably pay attention to where she was going, and what she was doing… And she barely managed to keep her balance when a child literally ran into her.

“Careful, careful,” she chastised steadying him on his feet, “what have I told you about watching where you’re going?”

“Sorry, Aunt Kalli,” Aidan replied guiltily, as she knelt down to look at him eye level.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Wham, you’re dead,” Amethyne said running up to them and tagging Aidan on the shoulder.

“No fair,” Aidan frowned, “she stopped me.”

“You stopped yourself,” she replied wryly, “with my legs.”

“Hah!” Amethyne laughed gleefully.

“So, what are you two playing this time?” she asked.

“Heroes and Humans!” Aidan said excitedly, “she made it up.”

“We each choose someone from the Elder’s stories and do furious battle,” Amethyne said, “I always win.”

“That’s ‘cause you cheat!” Aidan replied defensively.

“Heroes and Humans, huh?” she hummed thoughtfully, “why don’t you play as Elves?”

“Do you know any stories about Elven heroes?” Amethyne asked.

“Why, of course, I do,” she said with a wink, “it’s about Tathas, the sneaky Elven bandit.”

“Did Tathas steal from the Humans?” Amethyne asked.

“Yes, she did,” she nodded, deciding to take a page out of Robin Hood’s book, “she stole from the rich and gave to the poor.”

“Did Tathas ever get caught?” Aidan asked.

“Eventually, yes,” she said with a sad smile, “the Humans began hunting for her, targeting Elves to get revenge for her actions. After seeing how the Humans hurt those she loved, she turned herself in to spare them from further harm.”

“Hoooray!” Amethyne exclaimed, “I’m going to be Tathas!”

“Just remember, this: you two are to never, ever, ever steal from Humans, understood?” she warned for the same reason her Mother told her to never steal. She did not want to see them hunted, she did not want to see them hurt, and she wouldn’t always be around to help them out of trouble. They needed to be aware of the dangers their actions could cause.

“But why not?” Aidan asked, “Tathas did.”

“And Tathas ended up hurting those she loved,” she replied, “so be safe, and do not steal from Humans, alright?”

“Yes, Aunt Kalli,” both children said in unison, before going back to their game, still adamant on playing as Tathas, and she let out a wry chuckle.

“Hey, Kalli, congratulations on the big day!” Taeodor said greeting her, “I see you’re still good with children.”

“I do my best.”

“Have you seen Soris, by any chance?”

“Not yet, I’m looking for him as well.”

“Well, tell him to come by and say hello when you see him.”

“I will,” she said with a small wave, everyone was looking for Soris, should she prank him? Or greet him normally? Probably normally, he was stressed enough about this whole ordeal; if she stressed him out too much, he might lose his nerve and run away to find the Dalish. Then again, he was smarter than to do that, he didn’t know the first thing about living on the road, and neither did she. Now, where on earth was her cousin? Ah, there he was.

“Hey, Kalli,” Soris said greeting her as she approached, he sounded… down, and she wasn’t surprised.

“Hey, Soris, getting cold feet?”

“Are you surprised? I feel about ready to go hunt for the Dalish.”

“I figured as much,” she chuckled wryly, “but you’re smarter than that. You don’t the first thing about camping and living in an uncivilized forest.”

“Yeah,” Soris sighed heavily, “still… I’ve already met your betrothed, he seems like a dream come true.”

“Oh?”

“And my bride sounds like a dying mouse.”

“Looks aren’t everything, Soris.”

“She’s not ugly… I don’t know maybe it’s just nerves? I didn’t spend as much time writing to Valora as you did to Nelaros… In hindsight, that one's kind of my fault.”

“Glad you realized it.”

“Alright, alright, let’s go introduce you to your dreamy betrothed before you say ‘I do’.”

“I’m nervous,” she frowned, “what if he doesn’t like me? What if I don’t measure up to his expectations?”

“That’s impossible.”

“Ah, we should find Taeodor first, he wanted to talk to you.”

“Do you know what about?”

“Wouldn’t say.”

“Alms… alms for the poor,” a familiar voice called despondently, it was Beckett, he had been crippled by Human foremen, who tossed him aside when he could no longer work.

“Yes, we can go talk to him first,” Soris said reading her mind, “anything to put this off.”

“Hey, Beckett,” she greeted, “how’s your leg doing today?”

“Same as always,” Beckett sighed.

“Do you need more medicines?”

“No… I don’t.”

“Here,” she said, holding out the forty bits she’d gotten from the drunkards, “I think you’ll put it to better use than I will.”

“I can’t accept this much, Kallian,” Beckett frowned.

“Don’t worry, I confiscated it from a group of drunkards,” she grinned, “you can use it more than I can.”

“…Thank you,” Beckett replied with a sigh, “may the Maker’s eyes look down with love on your day.”

“May he watch over you as well,” she replied giving a small wave as they turned back to the square, too bad they barely made it three steps without being met with misfortune.

“Ugh,” Soris groaned, they were caught by Elva, whose scathing glare was focused on her.

“So I see you’ve found yourself a big handsome hunk of a husband,” Elva glowered, “excuse me if I don’t congratulate you.”

“Well, looks aren’t everything,” she replied repeating the words she’d told Soris.

“Don’t act like you care,” Elva replied scornfully, “your Father has the money to get you a great match. Meanwhile, what did I get? A fat old man who smells like the docks and wouldn’t know what to do with a woman even if he was sober.”

“Well, that’s how life goes at times.”

“Don’t give me your pitiful reassurances! You think you’re better than me?” Elva replied angrily, before stomping off, “because you’re not! I may have gotten a poor match, but at least I’ve still got some dignity, wench.”

“I’m just glad her focus was on you, and not me,” Soris grumbled as they walked back to the square, “I hate dealing with her.”

“Does anyone like dealing with her?” she sighed, even she couldn’t handle Elva’s bitter negativity. It was exhausting like she just sucked out all the joy… Like a dementor, except the only patronus she had were words.

“Good point,” Soris sighed as they continued on their way to Taeodor. Hopefully, he was still by the _vhenadahl_.

She pats Soris on the back as they continued on, his nerves were clearly frayed.

“There’s the man of the hour,” Taeodor said as they came into view, “how are you, Soris?”

“I’m well,” Soris replied, “more or less.”

“Blessings on the day,” Taeodor chuckled wryly, “both of you.”

“Poor Soris isn’t feeling very blessed,” she snickered.

“True enough,” Soris frowned at her, “still, better to be married and have a real-life than to remain a child.”

“Easy for you to say,” she replied, “I was supposed to be a child for three more years. At least.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Soris rolled his eyes.

“There is something you two should know,” Taeodor sighed re-grabbing their attention, “my brothers won’t be coming. They… left to find the Dalish, you see.”

“Edwyn and Jinan, did?” Soris asked in shock.

“Kalli… Why do you look like you can’t decide whether you want to laugh or feel pity?”

“Because I can’t,” she replied, holding a hand to her mouth, “on one hand: it’s sad they’re gone. But on the other… Soris was talking about leaving to find the Dalish. I’m sure if he knew they were leaving, he would have asked them to take him with them.”

“…You have a point,” Soris sighed, “though, who knows if they actually exist or not.”

“Even Alarith swears that Dalish Elves saved him on his way to Denerim,” Taeodor scoffed, “nonsense.”

“Alarith did!?” she said in shock, “he never told me that!”

“Indeed,” Taeodor frowned, “he told my brothers that, when he was fleeing his homeland, he found the Dalish— or they found him. I don’t really remember.”

“I… I feel the need to go bug him about this,” she said.

“Well, I wouldn’t worry about it, Taeodor,” Soris said, “they were probably just taken in by another story.”

“I just wish they wouldn’t be so reckless and irresponsible.”

“I’d bet,” Soris replied, “well, Taeodor, it was great seeing you. I’m sure your brothers will show up in a few days, embarrassed and hungry.”

“I hope so,” Taeodor sighed, “I should go for now. I’ll see you two in a bit.”

“Yeah, see you later,” they replied in unison.

“Wait, Kalli, why are you going into Alarith’s shop?”

“To annoy him.”

“Well, alright then.”

She felt the urgent need to pester him about the Dalish, and everything else could wait for now; she doubted he’d tell her right now, everyone was preparing for the wedding. All she wanted for the moment was to extract a promise from him.

“What are you two doing in here,” Alarith asked dryly, “don’t you both have a wedding to prepare for?”

“Not for another few hours,” Soris replied.

“Honestly, I’m surprised your Father managed to find you a match, especially on such short notice,” Alarith pointed out, “it feels like just yesterday that I told you that there was no way you were getting married.”

“I know, right?”

“Really?” Soris quirked a brow, “I’m fairly certain that it wasn’t that difficult.”

“I don’t know about that,” Alarith replied, “there were a lot of other people who were shocked that your Father managed to find someone to marry you.”

“Thaaaanks, Alarith,” she sighed.

“Now what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to ask you about the Dalish,” she pouted, “and why you never told me about them.”

“Both your Father and Valendrian would kill me if I did,” Alarith sighed, “if you want to hear more stories, I’ll tell you all about it over ale after you're married. Now go, shoo, I also have a wedding to prepare for.”

“I’ll be holding you to that,” she said as she and Soris left.

“Are you sure there’s nothing between you and Alarith?”

“Of course there isn’t, our relationship is more akin to that of a person being annoyed by a mosquito.”

“…I hope you realize you’re the one who called yourself a mosquito.”

“Of course I do,” she replied as she saw Shianni waving to her, “oh no… Soris I don’t think I can do this.”

“And here I thought I was nervous,” Soris snickered, “come on, you’ll have to meet him eventually.”

She felt her heart in her throat as they walked towards Shianni, who was clearly waving them down; she felt her footsteps falter a bit. Taking in a deep breath, she mentally psyched herself up, she could do this, this was a thing she could do. It’ll be okay, she’ll be okay, they’ll be okay… But in her nervous state, she didn’t notice the Humans walking in until they grabbed Nola.

“Let go of me! Please! Stop!” Nola cried struggling out of his grip and running to hide behind her. She was still seen as a protector of the Alienage, she straightened her back, and allowed Nola to cower behind her as she regarded the Humans.

“It’s a party, isn’t it? Grab a whore and have a good time,” the Human laughed cruelly if this were any other day, or any other time, she would take those as fighting words, and then he advanced on Shianni, and she barely kept her murderous rage in check, they could not cause an incident, “savor the hunt, boys. Take this little Elven wench, here… so young and vulnerable...”

“Touch me, and I’ll gut you, you pig!” Shianni glared defiantly.

“Please, my lord!” Jory begged, “we’re celebrating weddings, here!”

“Silence! Worm!” the Human roared before backhanding him across the face, her anger flared again and instincts raged. Something within her truly awakened at that moment, something she hadn’t felt in years, something she hadn’t done in years: she would soon be out on the hunt again.

“Kalli, calm down I know what you’re thinking,” Soris whispered harshly grabbing hold of her, “but maybe we shouldn’t get involved.”

“Objection, noted, appreciated, but duly ignored,” she hissed back and he let go of her.

“Fine, but let’s try to be diplomatic, shall we?” Soris sighed.

“Soris, when is diplomacy, not my first choice in settling conflicts?” she whispered back, though no matter what they chose to do they didn’t really have an opportunity to do it as the Human spotted her and advanced on her.

“What’s this?” the Human said and she could feel his gross disgusting gaze on her, but she was in control of herself, “another lovely one to keep me company?”

“Let’s just talk this over, shall we?” she replied with a practiced polite smile. It was basically the equivalent of a service smile, really.

“Maybe you should invite it over for dinner!” one of his friends laughed mockingly sealing his own fate. He too would be hunted for this grievance.

“I think that mayhaps, you might be a little lost,” she held up her smile, she knew they had no clue, and she would keep it that way. One should never reveal their hand too early, “perhaps I could give you some directions?”

“Oh? And where do you think we need to go?” the insolent waste of space scoffed.

“The Pearl is that way,” she replied gesturing to the direction of the Pearl.

“Do you have any idea who I am?” the man scoffed, and she did. He was someone whose life was forfeit. In the corner of her eye, she saw Shianni run towards a bottle and then smash it over his head, knocking him out. She really wished she hadn’t done that, but it was too late to go back now.

“Are you insane?!” one of his friends shouted, “this is Vaughan Kendalls, the Arl of Denerim’s son!”

“W—what?” Shianni said in shock, “oh, Maker…”

“Take him home,” she replied stepping in front of Shianni. She decided that when she got work as a servant, that she’ll only serve a woman, “if you don’t mention this, we won’t.”

“You’ve a lot of nerve, knife-ears,” his other friend glowered, before they both carted Vaughan’s dead beat ass away, “this’ll go badly for you.”

“Oh, I really messed up this time,” Shianni groaned, and she hugged her cousin.

“Don’t worry,” Soris said comfortingly, “he won’t tell anyone an Elven woman took him down.”

“I… I hope so,” Shianni sighed as she let her go, “I should go get cleaned up.”

“You do that, we’ll see you in a bit,” she said with a small smile. He was the Arl of Denerim’s son? Then she knew where to go later. She blinked her eyes a bit to clear her thoughts, the hunt will come later, for now, there were celebrations to be had.

“Is everybody else alright?” Soris asked as Shianni left.

“I think we’re just shaken,” an unfamiliar woman answered, as an unfamiliar man walked up to them as well, “what was that about?”

Oh, be still her beating heart, he was here. This was happening, this was really happening. This was a thing that was happening.

“The Arl’s son just started drinking too early,” she replied with a wry smile, “and somehow ended up here instead of the brothel. I’m sure they’ll find their way there eventually.”

“Yes, that,” Soris said latching onto her lifeline with a nervous laugh before clearing his throat, and turning to introduce her to the woman, “this is Valora, my betrothed.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Valora, my name is Kallian, I pray we get along in the days to come,” she nodded politely to Valora before turning to Nelaros and she could feel a smile bloom on her face, “and you must be Nelaros.”

“I am a lucky man to be so warmly welcomed,” Nelaros replied returning her smile, “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

“As have I,” she replied.

“I’m sure you two have a lot to discuss,” Soris coughed before leading Valora away.

“Well, here we are,” Nelaros said when they were alone, and she felt her pulse skyrocket, “are you nervous?”

“I was until I met you,” she replied.

“I’ll spend every waking moment learning to make you happy,” Nelaros declared and she felt herself on the verge of swooning.

“How was the trip from Highever?”

“Uneventful, thankfully, the trade caravan we accompanied had little of value; I think that kept the bandits away.”

“I’m glad to hear that… How do you feel about moving to Denerim?”

“It was hard to leave Highever, but Denerim is where you are, and I couldn’t help but eagerly await this day… Denerim itself seems friendlier than Highever… perhaps because it’s so large that Humans take less notice of us.”

“Well, things can only get better from here.”

“I think you’re right. I’m looking forward to seeing how life unfolds,” Nelaros smiled warmly.

“I am, as well,” she could really see it, a future with this man. Sure, being basically a mail-order bride wasn’t really her thing, but, she could see it, and it excited her.

“Come on, Kalli,” Soris said clearing his throat to grab their attention, “we should let them get ready.”

“We’ll see you two in a bit, then,” Valora said, “don’t disappear on us.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied with a nod and watched as they both walked away.

“Don’t look now,” Soris groaned, “but we have another problem.”

“Ughhh, I hope this doesn’t delay anything,” she groaned before turning to face the way Soris was facing, and she panicked. It was that Human, the one she was supposed to avoid at all costs. Soris didn’t know that she was supposed to avoid him, and she couldn’t leave Soris to deal with him on his own, especially since this Human was armed and judging by his armor, he’d likely seen battle many times.

“Another Human just walked in,” Soris sighed in frustration, “could be one of Vaughan’s or just a random troublemaker.”

“I’d ask why this is happening today of all days,” she sighed, “but that’s just a waste of energy.”

“Right?” Soris agreed, “either way, we need to move him along before someone does something stupid.”

“Agreed… Let’s go talk to him,” she sighed again.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Soris said and they both sighed heavily again.


	6. How the Cat Lost Her Innocence

She pinched the bridge of her nose, seriously, out of all days, why was today the day that Humans felt the urgent need to stroll into the Alienage? Honestly, it was a bit strange. Normally, Humans left them to their own devices, they were considered second-class citizens, after all. She was also probably about to find out why her Mother told her to avoid that Human at all costs, and so she threw her a quick apology. Surely, she’d understand the circumstance under-which she must act. 

Still, was it so terrible to want the first wedding she’s ever had in two lifetimes to go well? If either of her Mother’s were here, they would probably eloquently tell him to kindly fuck off… And now she once again missed both of her Mothers. She never wrote letters to the Mother of her old life, there was no way she would receive them, gods don’t cross over like that… Not only that, but she was still vainly trying to leave the family she had from that life alone. Though she kind of wavered on it a lot, on one hand, that her is literally dead. On the other? The family of that life also had played a part in shaping her into the person she currently was.

Ahhh decisions, decisions. 

Alright, time to deal with the Human that she was supposed to avoid at all costs. With that in mind, she put on her service smile simply hoping that this wouldn’t come to a fight. As she was now? She probably, no, definitely, couldn’t take him. She was unarmed, where he was not only armed but in armor. His fighting experience probably outclassed hers by a large margin. She’d never gotten into a fight in her past life, martial arts were just a way for her to gain inner peace. 

Also because _wushu_ is fun to say, like… REALLY fun to say, plus _baguazhang_ was strongly connected to Taoism. And her fighting experience in this one? She’d only led men astray, she rarely had to deal any amount of damage to them. She’ll have to choose her actions wisely.

“Good day,” the Human said with a polite bow, “I understand congratulations are in order for your impending wedding.”

“Thank you,” she replied civilly, “and as appreciated as it is, I must ask that you please leave as we would like to avoid any further unpleasantness.”

“What manner of unpleasantness might you be referring to?” he chuckled.

“The Alienage is just not a good place for Humans,” she answered.

“I’m sorry, but I have no intention of leaving,” he replied and she began to mentally assess the situation: he wasn’t mistreating them, he wasn’t abusing anyone, he wasn’t brandishing his weapons and using his position of power against them… But there was still a reason her Mother had told her to avoid him at all costs. Now then, what was his game?

“Then, may I ask if there is a reason for that?” she asked fully aware that he was judging her. To what end? She didn’t know, but chances are, she wasn’t going to like them. She trusted her Mother, and her Mother saw him as a danger to her thus she must proceed cautiously.

“She keeps her composure, even when facing down an unknown and armed Human,” he said as she saw Valendrian approach, “a true gift, wouldn’t you say, Valendrian?”

“I would say the world has far more use of those who know how to stay their blades,” Valendrian replied his next words shocked her, but she still kept her suspicions, she trusted her Mother more than she trusted Valendrian, “it is good to see you again, my old friend. It has been far too long.”

“I agree,” she said, “you know this Human, Elder?”

“May I present Duncan,” Valendrian said, “head of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden.”

“How do you know each other?” she asked in an attempt to get a read on him.

“Valendrian and I have known each other for almost twenty years, since the time I tried to recruit your Mother, in fact,” Duncan replied, “your Mother was a fiery woman, she would have made an excellent Grey Warden.”

“Ah, I see,” she replied, perhaps this was why her Mother told her to avoid him, “and why would a Grey Warden come here?”

“The worst has happened: a Blight has begun,” Duncan replied, “King Cailan summons the Grey Wardens to Ostagar to fight the Darkspawn horde alongside his armies.”

“Yes… I had heard the news,” Valendrian replied. He knew something, of course he knew something, “still, this is an awkward time. There is to be a wedding— two, in fact.”

“This is quite a ways away from Ostagar,” she pointed out. 

There was that word again, Blight. She still didn’t know what that was all about, she also didn’t know anything about the Grey Wardens. From what she could glean from his words, there was a war… Against Darkspawn? What the fuck was a Darkspawn? And if he’s a Grey Warden, and King Cailan had summoned the Grey Wardens to Ostagar, why was he here, in the Denerim Alienage?

“Indeed, but by all means, attend to your ceremonies,” Duncan replied, “my concerns can wait, for now.”

‘For now’? What exactly did this Human want from them? Why did her Mother tell her to avoid him at all costs? To use her as a bargaining chip to get her to agree to become a Grey Warden or whatever? If so, he’s far too late for that, that ship has long since sailed. Hmm… Grey Warden… 

Alright, let’s first separate these two words: Grey, a shade often associated with either depression and a colorless world. It could also be seen as the middle ground between white and black, good and evil, a neutral shade whose very existence proved that there is no true black and white, no true good and evil. A shaded representation that there is nothing inherently one way or the other.

Wardens… Wardens are watchers, sentinels, people or things who were given the important duty to look after their charges. Now then, who or what were the charges to these Wardens? And for what meaning did they choose the shade Grey? Big important organizations picked their names wisely, they take these things into account. 

Now her only questions were: Why Grey? And who or what were their charges?

“Very well,” Valendrian sighed, “treat Duncan as my guest, and for the Maker’s sake, finish your preparations!”

“On it Elder,” Shianni said before dragging her off and asking her in a quiet voice, “what did the Human want?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed, “I couldn’t get a read on him, I have absolutely no clue what his intentions are. Apparently, he tried to recruit my Mother, but she’s no longer with us… So what on earth is he doing here?”

“Well, hopefully nothing bad happens,” Shianni replied as they entered her house so that she could change, do her hair, and put on a prettier face.

“I hope so too,” she sighed after putting her dress on and then began undoing her hair and re-braiding it into a bun at the top of the left side of her head, securing it with braided cords, and her favorite ribbon, “I have enough problems as it is.”

“…You haven’t been on the hunt in a long time, you sure you still know how to do it?”

“It’s not the kind of thing one really forgets,” she replied throwing on a prettier face.

“Why are you such a cat?”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s because everyone kept calling me a cat,” she replied, honestly, even she wanted to know why she was so obsessed with it, "so in the end I became what I was called.”

“You’re practically a cat of a vigilante… What are you going to do after you get married?”

“Well, first: this will be the last time I hunt. Second: what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, or something along those lines,” she said before suddenly sneezing and grumbling, “someone, somewhere is talking shit about me.”

“Are you ready yet?” Soris asked knocking on the door.

“Almost,” she replied and heard Soris enter the room.

“You’re going on a hunt later, aren’t you?” Soris asked wryly, “you’ve never been the type to back down easily.”

“How are you feeling about getting married now?” she asked.

“I think I’m coming to terms with it,” Soris replied, “maybe in time I’ll learn to appreciate the ol’ mouse.”

“Kalli, don’t hunt Soris’s wife, okay?”

“Why… why on earth do you feel the need to tell me this?”

“Because you’re a cat and cats eat mice,” Shianni replied.

“Ughhh… Seriously? I’m not an actual cat, you jerks.”

“You’re as close to a cat as an Elf can get,” Soris pointed out.

“By the way, Soris, do you know anything about Grey Wardens?” she asked, they had a few more minutes to spare.

“Not that much, I expected a giant, bristling in weapons.”

“Well, you already know more than I do,” she sighed.

“Wow, that’s a weird feeling,” Soris said thoughtfully, “the Elder once said that the Grey Wardens stopped a Blight: some huge invasion of evil things from darkness… you know how stories go.”

“Ahhh, yeah, that would explain why I don’t know anything about them,” she said standing up, “that’s not really in line with my interests.”

“True,” Soris replied, “anyway, it’s time, we should get this show going.”

“I agree,” she replied as she stood and followed Soris out the door. Approaching the stage, she felt her heart in her throat again. This was happening. This was really truly a thing that was happening. This was a thing that was really happening right here and right now. What was this feeling? Nervousness? Excitement? Fear? Or all of the above? Probably all of the above.

“Ohh! Soris, there you are,” Valora said, “I was afraid you’d runoff.”

“No, I’m here, with Nelaro’s blushing bride in tow,” Soris said, he already sounded much better than he had sounded earlier.

“You make it sound like you had to hunt me down and drag me over here,” she replied wryly as Nelaros turned his gaze on her.

“You look radiant,” Nelaros smiled and she felt her blood rush to her face as she returned his smile.

“It looks like everyone’s ready,” Soris said as Mother Boann ascended the stage.

“Good luck, Soris,” she whispered.

“You too, Kalli,” Soris whispered back, “maybe it won’t be so bad after all.”

She gave him a wry smile, resisting the urge to reach over and slap him on the shoulder. Clearly, Valora felt the same. As she saw Valendrian walk to the front of the stage she straightened her back.

“Friends and family, today we celebrate not only this joining, but also our bonds of kin and kind,” Valendrian said and she forced herself to keep her breathing in check, inhale, hold, exhale, repeat, “we are a free people, but that was not always so. Andraste, the Maker’s prophet, freed us from the bonds of slavery. As our community grows, remember that our strength lies in commitment and to each other.”

“Thank you, Valendrian,” Mother Boann said taking Valendrian’s place on the stage, “now, let us begin…”

She was getting married, holy shit balls. This was real. _She_ was actually getting married. _Her_.

“In the name of the Maker, who brought us this world, and in whose name we say the Chant of Light, I—” Mother Boann began, and then her heart dropped, and she felt her blood run cold as over Mother Boann’s shoulder, she saw her target waltz in with a contingent of guards, “Milord? This is… an unexpected surprise.”

Mother Boann wouldn’t do anything for them, they couldn’t rely on her. And though this community was strong… She doubted they would risk themselves in this situation, and she didn’t want them too regardless. In this situation, in this dress, in this environment… She could already tell: she was powerless. That word again. _Powerless_.

“Sorry to interrupt, Mother,” Vaughan laughed, “but I’m having a party and we’re dreadfully short of female guests.”

“Milord, this is a wedding!” Mother Boann glared, and she breathed, in through the nose, out through the mouth. 

Not now, not yet, she must choose her actions wisely, there were guards armed and in full armor. There was nothing she would be able to do just yet, and even if she did retaliate, the splash damage from her actions would be her end. She’ll have to bide her time and patiently wait for an opportunity, a window in which she’d be able to act.

“Ha! If you want to dress up your pets and have tea parties, that’s your business,” Vaughan scoffed, “but don’t pretend this is a proper wedding… now, we’re here for a good time, aren’t we boys?”

“Just a good time with the ladies, that’s all,” his friends laughed, she continued focusing on her breathing.

“Let’s take those two,” Vaughan said as if he were ordering food at a restaurant, “the one in the tight dress, and… where’s the bitch that bottled me?”

“Over here, Lord Vaughan!” his friend said grabbing Shianni.

“Let me go, you stuffed-shirt son of a— “ Shianni struggled and she felt her anger flare, and her instincts blaze, but still, this was not the time. Patience. Patient, she would have to be patient.

“Oh, I’ll enjoy taming her,” Vaughan laughed before turning to her, “and see the pretty bride…”

“Don’t worry,” Nelaros said and despite everything, she felt her heart swell, “I won’t let them take you!”

“It’ll be alright,” was the only thing she could say.

“Ah, yes… such a well-formed little thing,” Vaughan said as he advanced on her.

“You villains!” Nelaros shouted putting himself between them.

“Oh that’s quite enough,” Vaughan laughed, “I’m sure we all want to avoid further… um… unpleasantness.”

“Please, just take me and let the others go,” she pleaded.

“That wouldn’t be much of a party, now would it?” Vaughan replied, “oh, we are going to have some fun.”

She could see his friend come up and made her decision: as he moved to hit her, she moved with his strike, rag-dolled her body, evened out her breathing, and allowed herself to be carted away. There was still something she could do, she just needed to wait for the right opportunity. 

Idly, she wondered if this was her punishment for all her actions, for her past. She’ll have to consider her actions wisely, she’s never had to protect others like this before. She kept her eyes closed as she felt herself get thrown down and heard a door close and lock.

“Maker keep us,” Nola began praying, “Maker protect us, Maker keep us, Maker—”

“Stop it,” Shianni grumbled, “you’re driving me insane.”

“Are they gone?” she asked.

“Oh, thank the Maker you’ve come to,” Shianni sighed in relief, “we were so… You weren’t actually knocked out, were you?”

“Nope, I’m gonna need you to move a little,” she sighed and they moved and she did a kip-up and began looking around the room.

“You… _allowed_ yourself to be kidnapped?!” Lana shouted at her angrily.

“Why yes, Lana, yes I did. I needed an opportunity, so I needed to bide my time and consider my options,” she hissed, “that Human’s life is as good as over.”

“…I should have known better than to wonder if you had lost your fight,” Shianni grumbled.

“They locked us in here to wait until that… bastard is ‘ready for us’,” Valora panicked.

“Yes, and we’re getting out of here,” she replied opening the drawer, empty, of course.

“Forgive me if I don’t hold my breath,” Lana replied, “but the door is locked and solid, and we’re unarmed!”

“Do you have your lock picks?” Shianni asked.

“If I did, that door wouldn’t still be locked,” she replied inspecting the table, she could probably break it, but to what end? Same with the other furnishings in the room, breaking them would be a waste of time and energy. The gong was the only real thing she could use, but only if she could separate the metal plate from its casing and she had no tools to do it with.

“Maker keep us, Maker protect us,” Nola began praying again, “Maker keep us, Maker protect us.”

“Great… this again,” Shianni grumbled, “what are you thinking, Kalli?”

She opened the door to the cabinet, she could probably rip it off of its hinges… But then what? They were definitely not going to come in alone, there was probably going to be a group of them. Sure, she could use it to smash someone's head, but she somewhat doubted they’d be unarmed, they would also probably have helmets, and there was no way she could take on a group while still protecting the others. She was a protector, sure, but this wasn’t really her preferred method of protecting, she was a rogue, she was a hunter, she struck from the shadows. She wasn’t a warrior, she didn’t stand between people, well, she could, but that would be stupid. 

She was confident that she could’ve gotten herself out of here, but it would be at the cost of the others, and that was a price she refused to pay. With a sigh, she looked back at the people she was stuck with, out of all of them the only other one who knew how to defend herself was Shianni, but Shianni was best with a bow, not melee, and most definitely not her fists… She hated that she currently thought of the others as a burden, but right now, that’s what they more or less were.

“Still thinking,” she groaned.

“Look,” Lana said through her clenched teeth, “we’ll do what they want, go home, and try to forget this ever happened.”

“She’s right,” Valora replied, “it’ll be worse if we resist.”

“It’ll be worse if we don’t!” Shianni glared.

“This isn’t something anyone can or will forget, no matter how hard you try,” she sighed in frustration. Valora wasn’t really Tabris material, she’ll be a good match for Soris, but she didn’t have the courage or fight that both she and Shianni had, “no one can forget trauma on this scale, you’re hoping for the impossible.”

“Shh,” Lana hissed, “someone’s coming!”

“Just stay calm,” she replied as the door opened five, there were five of them with weapons and in armor, and for the first time: she found herself completely at a loss of what to do.

“Hello, wenches,” the Guard Captain said, “we’re your escorts to Lord Vaughan’s little party.”

“Stay away from us!” Nola screamed and she panicked and found herself reacting way too slow, she had been too far away from Nola, and could only watch in horror as she was cut down. Chances were, they were going to cut one of them down anyway, to shove their own powerlessness down their throats and to make them lose hope.

“You killed her!” Lana shouted.

“I suppose that’s what happens when you try teaching whores some respect,” the Guard Captain sneered before giving orders, “now, you grab the little flower cowering in the corner. Horace and I’ll take the homely bride and the drunk… You two, bind the last one. Vaughan likes her looks and wants to save her for last.”

“Don’t worry,” the Guard said walking up to her as she pretended to cower, “we’ll be perfect gentlemen.”

“Now, you heard the Captain,” the Other Guard added, “be a good little wench or you’ll end up like your friend, there.”

“Please… please… just please don’t hurt me,” she sobbed.

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” the First Guard replied gently, “we’ll treat you real—”

“Uhh… hello?” a familiar voice said tentatively. Soris? What was Soris doing here?

“Oh, look at this,” the Guard chuckled as they both turned to him, “a little Elfling with a stolen sword.”

She saw her opportunity and took it. Inwardly she cringed as she felt and heard his neck snap beneath her hands, and before his body fell she stole his sword and sliced through the neck of the second. They hadn’t even seen it coming. She felt sick, this was the first time she’d ever taken a life in either lifetimes, but she couldn’t let her nausea cripple her. There were still things she could do.

“Thank you for the distraction,” she sighed as she turned the stolen sword onto the lower half of her dress, roughly slicing through it at the knees. 

She couldn’t quite get to the back of it, so this would have to do. Part of her lamented the ruined dress, they’d spent so long making it, and they had both been beyond proud of the how it had turned out, and that part of her also lamented this whole situation. Part of her wanted to shout, scream, kick, and cry as she indignantly demanded answers for why this was happening. But that would be a waste of time and energy. There were things they needed to do, people they needed to save.

And people she needed to hunt.

“They… They killed Nola?” Soris said in shock, before turning to inspect her, “they… they didn’t hurt you too, did they?”

“I’m alright,” she replied looking at the sword in his hand, “where’d you get that sword?”

“That Grey Warden, Duncan, gave Nelaros and me his sword and crossbow, but that’s all we have,” Soris replied handing the sword to her, “I think you can use this better than I can.”

“Possibly,” she replied testing the weight of both swords and her heart swelled as she turned to look at Soris, “wait… Nelaros is here?”

“Yes, he’s the reason we’re here,” Soris replied, “he lost it on those who wanted to ‘hope for the best’. I… I didn’t know what to do.”

“You’re here now,” she replied soothingly, “and you helped me, that’s what matters.”

“Thanks,” Soris replied, “I couldn’t let him go alone.”

“Did you have to fight your way in?” she asked giving both swords a sharp downward strike to help gather her bearings. She guessed this was where she’d have to use the full extent of her abilities and hold nothing back.

“We snuck in,” Soris admitted, “although Nelaros took down a guard. He’s a savage fighter, though not quite as savage as you are, apparently. Nelaros is guarding the end of the hall, let’s go figure this out with him.”

“Good plan,” she nodded, she saw her future and realized that she didn’t deserve Nelaros. He was too good for her. Far too good for her, and so instead she simply hoped that he would have a better life after her death. Humans would demand blood, would demand to know who was responsible, and she was not letting anyone but herself take the fall. Especially not him.

“We should hurry,” Soris said as they swiftly left the room, “before something happens to the others.”

“Agreed,” she said.

“What’s this!?” a Human that she presumed was the cook glowered, “I don’t recognize you, Elf! Wait… is that blood?”

But surprisingly, one of the kitchen servants got to him first, a fist slamming into the back of his head.

“You’ve no idea how long that _shem’s_ had it coming,” the Servant said as he shook out his hand to help the pain from it to go away.

“Have you seen a group of Elven women?” she asked.

“Yes, dragged them to Lord Vaughan’s quarters, they did,” the Servant said before running out, “you should hurry if you want to help them… Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m getting out of here before the storm hits.”

“Good luck,” she replied and they ran through the door he’d left open, and after taking quick stock of the situation, dispatched the guards there swiftly and easily, “Soris, after we get to Nelaros, I won’t think any less of you if you both simply went back to the Alienage.”

“No, even if you can save the others on your own,” Soris shook his head, “you might not be able to get them out of here on your own.”

“Good point,” she replied as they continued to move.

***

He was scared.

He was scared of his cousin. 

Kallian was a whirlwind of death that he could barely keep up with, most didn’t even see her coming, didn’t even have the time to react. He knew she was flexible, he knew she was agile, he knew she was deadly, but he had never known the true extent of her abilities. She bounced around the halls unleashing slices, thrusts and slashes with what looked like practiced ease. Practically every single one of her attacks ended a life in a single blow, but he could tell that she was in full control of herself. 

But despite knowing that she would never turn on him, he couldn’t stop himself from being afraid of her. Her eyes alone had sent shivers down his spine.

His cousin, Kallian, was a monster, and though he loved her, he couldn’t help but fear her.

***

She screamed as she felt her heart ripped out of her chest and left dying on the floor, and she knelt next to his body, applying pressure to his wound. It was fatal, she knew but she needed to try anyway she felt his hand caress her face as he shook his head and pressed a ring into her hands with the last of his strength. She clutched at his hands as they lost their warmth, grasping at them as they went limp in her grasp. His blood was on her. She felt it on her cheek, she felt it dampen her dress, she felt it on her hands. She felt her control of herself slipping, but she needed to keep herself together.

“He—” she bit the inside of her cheek and slipping the ring on her finger, “we need to keep going. We can’t let his death be in vain.”

How? How did this happen? How could this happen? How did everything go so wrong so quickly?

“You’re right,” Soris replied quietly, “I’m so, so sorry, Nelaros…”

 _Powerless._

She was _powerless_. She couldn’t save Nola, she couldn’t save Nelaros. What good was she? What good were her experiences? What good were her abilities? This must be her punishment, her punishment for leading those men to their deaths. Her punishment was having her own powerlessness shoved down her throat as those she’d vowed to protect, those she loved, those she cherished pay the price of her actions.

Nelaros… She’ll be joining him soon.

She saw her future. She saw it in a prison cell. She saw it in being left to rot. She saw it in her death.

But for now, she had to continue forward, there were still things she could do. Still people she could save. She had to be stable, she had to be in control of herself, she had to be the rock Soris could latch onto for strength.

She shook her head and fought against the poison that had started to course through her. The poison that made people lose hope. 

The poison known as despair.

***

He could see wounds appear on her skin, she was covered in blood, and then he realized that he had yet to be hit. That he had yet to take any damage. The blood on him was minimal.

But her dress was in tatters, the white had given way to red.

He could tell she was forcing herself to go on for him. That she was still protecting him despite how cold, ruthless and methodical she’d become, she was still his cousin, his cousin that he’d always loved and cherished. He knew in the way that she left the servants alive, that she didn’t even look at them as she continued to rampage along her path of death and destruction. 

This was simply another part of her, simply another of her faces. And he could tell that she was blaming herself, that she thought that this was all her fault. That she was in pain, that she was in shock, that her heart had been broken. That she wanted to cry, that she wanted to wail, that she wanted just stop and give up. He could tell in the way that she ruthlessly killed and slaughtered everything and everyone. How guards both on and off duty, Mabari war hounds… all who crossed her path fell beneath her blades. All had their lives snuffed out by the executioner that was his cousin.

He loved her more than he feared her. He wanted to comfort her, he wanted to reassure her that it would be okay. 

But now wasn’t the time.

***

She kicked the door in and froze.

She saw her, laying on the ground, bloody, battered, and broken. Blood on her thighs, bruises already forming on her skin, eyes lifelessly staring at the ceiling. 

Was everything she touched just destined to fail? To crumble? Did her touch corrupt everything she cared for? Why was this happening? Why had she been sent to this world? A cruel joke played by the gods? Punishment? Did she do something without knowing it? Insulted them? Why? Why? Why?Why?WHY?WHY?WHY?WHY?

Ahhh… Who cares anymore? 

As her vision went black she decided that if this world wanted a monster, then she would become the monster that it had so dearly desired.

***

Suddenly, the demeanor in his cousin changed. Something was wrong. Something was horribly wrong. Something was really, truly, terribly wrong.

“My, my, what have we here?” Vaughan replied turning to them.

“Don’t worry,” his friend said, “we’ll make short work of these two.”

“Quiet, you idiot!” Vaughan shouted, “she’s covered in enough blood to fill a tub. What do you think that means?”

“Aaaahh I’ve been looking for you,” Kallian sighed with a blissful expression, “ever since I first saw you, I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind.”

He was scared. He was scared. Hewasscaredhewasscaredhewasscared.

“Oh? Then perhaps we can talk something out,” Vaughan smirked.

“Well there is something I do want you to do for me,” Kallian smiled before suddenly her head tilted at an unnatural angle her expression became malicious, and her words turned to ice, “and that is for you to s.t.o.p.b.r.e.a.t.h.i.n.g.”

He found himself frozen in terror as he watched Kallian brutally slaughter them before beginning to mutilate their carcasses.

A monster.

She had become a monster.

He saw Shianni twitch, and he forced himself to conquer his fears and run over to pull Kallian off of Vaughan’s mutilated corpse.

“KALLI!” he shouted, “KALLI STOP!”

“…Huh?” Kallian said as she stared at him dazed and confused and then jolted, as if she had just been woken up from a trance, a hand flying to her mouth in shock.

***

What… What had she done? She lost control? She? She lost control of herself? She could see the fear in Soris’s eyes, and all she could feel was shame. She had tripped over herself. She had lost sight of herself… What has she done?

“I’ll go check the back for the others,” Soris said, “Shianni needs you.”

“Kalli…?” Shianni sobbed and she dropped her weapons and rushed to hug her cousin to her tightly, “Kalli… Kalli help me… Kalli…”

“I’m so sorry, Shianni,” she cried, “I’m so sorry.”

“Just… just please don’t leave me alone,” Shianni cried into her neck, “please… please… take me home… I want to go home.”

“Of course,” she sobbed.

“There’s… so much blood, I can’t stand to look at it,” Shianni sobbed moving her hands to cover her eyes, “it’s everywhere.”

“Let me… let me get you cleaned up before we leave,” she said as tears blurred her vision.

“You killed them, didn’t you?” Shianni whispered as she gently wiped the blood from her thighs, “you killed them all?”

“Not just them,” she replied, “everyone who hurt you.”

“Good… good,” Shianni replied as she gently pulled her dress back down her legs.

“Is… is she going to be alright?” Valora asked.

“Would you be?” she hissed.

“Shianni… Shianni’s strong, she’ll recover,” Valora replied and she felt Shianni’s hand on her wrist and clicked her tongue in annoyance.

“Err… We should go,” Soris said quickly, “soon. As in now.”

“Soris, leave your weapons behind,” she demanded and he immediately complied not even questioning her.

He was afraid of her, but she still had her part to play. She still needed to play the part of a monster. The part of a bloodthirsty beast.

She led them through the Market, back towards the Alienage, still wearing her wedding dress, tattered, torn, and soaked in blood. Still holding her stolen swords, slick with blood and viscera. She kept her back straight, and tall, head held high with pride. A deep vicious scowl decorating her face.

She could feel them. 

Everyone staring at her in fear. Staring at her in horror. Some frozen in terror, other’s fleeing before her.

Good.

She waited for the others to enter through the Alienage gates and gently stopped Soris, startling him.

“Take care of everyone for me, won’t you?” she asked with a small smile.

“What?” Soris replied in shock as she gently ushered him back through the Alienage gates.

Valendrian was the first to greet them and she felt ashamed of herself the second his eyes had fallen on her.

“You… You’ve returned,” Valendrian said briefly looking at Shianni, he knew, “where is Tormey’s daughter, Nola?”

“Nola didn’t make it,” Valora replied, “she resisted, and…”

“They killed her,” Shianni finished.

“They killed Nelaros too,” Soris added, “the guards killed him.”

Her thumb ran over the cool metal of the ring he had given her. The ring he had made for her. 

His first and last gift for her… She’ll be with him soon.

“I… I see,” Valendrian sighed, “would the rest of you ladies please take Shianni home? She needs rest.”

“Soris, you go with them,” she demanded.

“Are yo—” Soris cut himself off as she slid her gaze to him and instead he immediately complied… He was still afraid of her.

“Now tell me,” Valendrian sighed heavily, “what happened?”

“I… I don’t want to talk about it,” she replied, her shame assaulting her like a splash of cold water.

“And the Arl’s son?” Valendrian asked, “does he live?”

“He didn’t deserve to live,” she replied quietly shaking her head.

“Maker preserve us all,” Valendrian prayed.

“Then the garrison could already be on their way,” Duncan replied, “you have little time.”

“I am aware,” she replied.

“The guards are here!” someone shouted.

“Don’t panic,” Valendrian replied, “let’s… let’s see what comes of this.”

She straightened her back when she heard the clanking of their metal armor as they marched into the Alienage.

“I seek Valendrian,” the Captain demanded, “Elder and administrator of the Alienage!”

“Here, Captain,” Valendrian said stepping forward, “I take it you have come in response to today’s disruption?”

“Don’t play ignorant with me, Elder, you will not prevent justice from being done,” the Captain glared, “the Arl’s son lies dead in a river of blood that runs through the entire palace! I need names, and I need them now!”

“It was me. I did it,” she laughed, she would play this role out to the end… no, was it even an act anymore? She knew what she’d done. She _was_ a monster, “I killed all of them.”

And it was more or less true, it was her blades they fell under, her strikes they died too. Soris helped, but not much, her abilities had far outclassed his. Something she was grateful for. Soris had not killed a single one of them, he may have damaged them, but she was the one who reaped their lives. She didn’t want Soris to feel that guilt, have that blood on his hands. Her fate had been sealed, his didn’t need to be.

She’d become death personified. Death given form in the shape of her body.

“You expect me to believe that one woman did all of that?” the Captain stared at her in suspicion.

“I see no other Elves covered in blood and viscera,” she sneered throwing her weapons down at his feet, “do you?”

“…You save many by coming forward,” the Captain sighed, “I don’t envy your fate, but I applaud your courage.”

“I don’t need your applause,” she cackled.

“Very well,” the Captain sighed again before raising his voice, “this Elf will wait in the dungeons until the Arl returns. The rest of you, back to your houses!”

“Captain,” Duncan said stopping him, “a word if you please.”

“What is it, Grey Warden?” the Captain replied, “the situation is well under control, as you can see.”

“Be that as it may,” Duncan replied and she felt her blood run cold, “I hereby invoke the Grey Warden’s Right of Conscription. I remove this woman into my custody.”

“Son of a tied down—” the Captain grumbled, “very well, Grey Warden. I cannot challenge your rights, so I’ll ask one thing: Get this Elf out of Denerim. Today.”

“Agreed,” Duncan replied.

“Now, I need to get my men on the streets before this news hits,” the Captain ordered, “move out!”

“What have you done?” she seethed rounding on him.

“You’re with me, now,” Duncan said, “say your goodbye and see me when you’re ready. We leave immediately.”

“And if I don’t want to become a Grey Warden?” she hissed with wide-eyed fury.

“You would prefer a swift execution?”

“Yes,” she snarled.

“Then give your life to our cause, I needed a Grey Warden and I found one. That conscripting you saved your life is only circumstance,” Duncan replied, “you did what you had to do to accomplish your mission. We need people like you.”

And she understood. 

She finally understood what his angle was. She understood what he was doing here. What he was doing here, in the Denerim Alienage. 

It was her. 

He was here for her.

“Now quickly, say your goodbyes,” Duncan said and she felt herself dying inside, “your life here is over.”

Ahh… She really truly was powerless, wasn’t she?

At this rate, she’ll never be able to dodge a ball.

***

He was ashamed of himself.

He’d found his cousin completely and utterly terrifying. She’d sacrificed herself for his future. She kept his hands clean, kept him from taking a life. Kept him safe from harm.

He remembered when his parents had died. When he had avoided her. How it had hurt her. How he regret treating her as a villain when she was a hero. She understood, he knew she understood. She always understood. She always understood and forgave him. But it hurt him, it always hurt him to see her like this, in pain, blaming herself, afraid of doing anything in case she hurt them again.

“Kalli,” he said tentatively, “you—”

“Yeah, I…” Kallian cut herself off took a breath and with a small smile she asked, “what will you do now?”

“No more daydreaming,” he replied wrapping her in a hug not minding the blood she was soaked in, “I’m settling down. Valora’s a good woman, and she has ideas on making life better for everyone here.”

“Treat her well, alright?” Kallian mumbled into his chest.

“Of course… and I’m sorry,” he apologized stepping away from her, “I’m sorry for being afraid of you.”

“Don’t be. Anyone would be scared of a monster in Elven flesh.”

“Still, I—” he sighed, “your Father had the women take Shianni home. Will you see her before you go?”

“She would kill me if I didn’t, wouldn’t she?” Kallian replied with a small smile.

“Good luck, Kalli, you’d always been my hero since we were kids. You know that?” he replied, “and I’m proud to say that you still are.”

This would most likely be the last time he saw his cousin, and even still, he had been afraid of her and had once again treated her like villain.

He will forever regret that he spent his last moments with her like this.

***

She looked at Valendrian in shame. What had she done? What… what had she done? She loved her friends and family the most, and yet she’d hurt them the most.

“Elder… I—" her words got caught in her throat.

“Well, I guess Duncan got his recruit after all,” Valendrian sighed heavily, and she could tell he was disappointed.

“I— I didn’t want—” disappointed, she was disappointed in herself, “I didn’t want this.”

“No?” Valendrian replied and she felt another piece of her shatter in her chest, “either way, it’s out of my hands now.”

“How could I? How could—” Valendrian held up a hand and cut her off.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Valendrian sighed before leaving, “I must tend to our people. Goodbye, young one and Maker keep you.”

And all she could do was stare after him in shock.

Disappointment.

She was a disappointment.

All her abilities, all her knowledge, all her experiences… And she was still a disappointment… No matter what life she was living, it seemed that all she could ever amount to was being a disappointment.

Truly, what good was she?

All she could do now was meander home on drunken legs.

She froze, she felt weak as her Father walked towards her, tightly wrapping his arms around her, clearly not minding the gore that coated her entire being.

“I’m so sorry, Father,” she sobbed, “I’m so, so, sorry.”

“If… If… If this is what the Maker has planned for you,” Father sighed, “then I guess… maybe it’s for the best… Your Mother would have been furious.”

“She would?”

“When Duncan came to the Alienage before, she told you to stay out of his sights, remember?” Father replied leaning back to wipe some of the blood from her face, “she… she didn’t want you you to become a Warden, she’d even threatened Duncan to stay away from you. She told him that the Wardens would never have you.”

“She was trying to protect me…”

“Valendrian was the same, he was the one who insisted that you be married sooner rather than later,” Father sighed sadly, “he wanted to keep you from joining the Wardens. He wanted you to be safe… He’s not disappointed in you, he’s disappointed in himself. For not being able to protect you, for not being able to stop this from happening… But clearly, the Maker has other plans.”

“I— I can’t… Why?”

“We both just wish there was another way, I dreamed of grandchildren, family gatherings—” Father held her tightly to him, “I’m sorry, this isn’t helping… Go inside… Shianni’s waiting for you.”

“Okay,” she said quietly as he let her go.

“Remember, that I will always love you, so take care,” Father said ruffling her hair a bit, “be safe, and wise… and… just come home one day, alright?”

“Of course,” she nodded before lifelessly pushing herself through the door of what had once been her home. 

“There you are,” Valora greeted her, “thank you. For me, for Soris, for everything.”

“Be good to Soris,” she replied.

“I will, I swear it,” Valora replied cheerfully before leaving, “Shianni seems to have regained herself. I’ll leave you two alone. Good luck, and thank you again.”

She hated herself, the her that was weak, the her that was powerless, the her that was slow, the her who destroyed everything she’d tried to protect with her own hands… It was her fault. She’s the one who destroyed everything. She was the one who destroyed her home with her own hands. She ruined everything. 

Her Father… Her Father… What would become of his work? Would they fire him for being _her_ Father? Would he lose his job because of _her_? Would he be able to find employment elsewhere? Would the Alienage blame him? Blame him for _her_ actions? 

Will Soris be okay? He took part in it. Would they blame him too? Would he be able to find employment? Would they hate him because of _her_?

And Shianni… 

A failure. All she was was a failure of a person… 

What… What has she done?

And so she finally succumbed to the poison that she had so desperately tried to fight against.

***

Kallian opened the door to their shared room quietly, and her heart broke as she saw the hollowed out broken shell of a woman that was once her cousin. The one that was once her strong, confident cousin, was once her beloved cousin who had once shown as brilliantly as the sun. Her cousin who had always been full of life, energetic, and free.

And now, her seemingly invincible cousin looked completely, utterly, and absolutely, defeated.

“Shianni—”

“Kalli…” she said cutting her off and walking over to her and pulling her into a hug, “you took all the responsibility for what happened… you’re amazing, you know that?”

“How… How are you doing?” Kallian asked quietly.

“I’m alright,” she replied rubbing her back soothingly, “as far as the others know, Vaughan just roughed me up a bit… I just don’t want them treating me like some fragile doll.”

“Shianni— I’m so sorry,” Kallian cried, “I’m so, so, sorry! I should have been faster, I should have just attacked them on the stage, I shou—”

“Kalli, stop,” she said trying not to cry, “you did what you could.”

“But that isn’t enough! That isn’t anywhere near enough!”

“Kalli, shhh,” she said, “you’ve always… you’ve always been there for me… but what happened? What happened was beyond what anyone could have ever expected from another person.”

“But I—”

“Kalli… You’ve always been a hero, you know that? Even if you’ve always identified with villains more than heroes, you’ll still always be a hero.”

“No! I’m not!” Kallian shook her head wildly, “I’m not! I’m rea—”

“You know, from my perspective,” she said pressing their foreheads together gently, “from my perspective… when the world was at its worst, there you came— fire in your eyes, like something out of a storybook… I’ll never forget that.”

“I—”

She couldn’t stop her tears anymore, and they held each other tightly as they wailed together, sobbing wildly and uncontrollably.

They’d both had their innocence snatched away from them. 

They both had their fires extinguished.

They were both in so much pain, no one else could possibly understand.

Once there were no tears left to cry. Once their voices here harsh and raspy, she helped her cousin pack a bag for traveling, helped her clean the blood from her body. Kallian had decided to keep her hair long. To help her remember better days. She worried it would be a hindrance in battle, but respected her decision. Finally, she helped her find a chain for the ring Nelaros had given her.

“I love you, Kalli,” she said hugging her again, “make us proud out there, alright?”

“I love you, too,” Kallian replied, “and… I’ll do my best.”

“You’d better.”

She, Soris, and Cyrion walked her cousin to the Alienage gates.

They all knew that this would most likely be the last time they ever saw her.

With forced smiles, for the first time in their entire lives, they parted ways, and they could only pray that they would see each other again one day.

***

How? How did this happen? Why was this happening?

Her breaths were coming out ragged as she fought her way through her own castle. As she fled from her family who had demanded she escape, her servants who’d given their lives to help her flee, from her dog that had been cut down in her place.

How? How could everything have gone wrong so quickly? Her Father and that wretched bastard were friends, how could he betray him like that?

Rage blossomed and consumed her heart.

She would never forgive him for this.

Never.

She would hunt him down and kill him, even if it were the last thing she did. But to do that, she would first need to find someone she could trust, someone who could help her.

And with that in mind, she set her destination for Redcliffe.

***

“Alistair, right?” a messenger said handing him a letter, “dispatch for you.”

“Oh! Duncan found a promising new recruit,” he said reading it, “I guess that’s why he went to Denerim.”

“So someone else will be joining us?” Ser Jory asked.

“That’s what it looks like,” he replied.

“Do you know who?” Daveth asked.

“A woman,” he said, “named Kallian Tabris.”


	7. How the Mage Met the Cat Who Helped the Dog

The woman he was traveling with detested him.

Absolutely abhorred him.

It was easy to see as they traveled along with the caravan towards Ostagar.

She blatantly rejected and ignored everything regarding him, including the armor he offered to buy her and spoke to him in the bare minimum.

But he didn’t need her to like him, as long as she still worked together with him when necessary, that would have to be good enough.

Another man traveling with them had tried to put his hands on her, but soon ended up screaming in pain as she emotionlessly twisted his arm to an unnatural position before he could even interfere. People tried to attack her, but her attacks were far quicker, precise, and efficient than he’d expected. She’d left them all alive, but in the end, no one dared approach her. She was the epitome of why you should choose your targets wisely.

He didn’t regret conscripting her into the Wardens in the least.

She would make an excellent Warden.

***

_Nola lay bleeding out on the floor. Slow, she had been too slow._

_She felt a neck-snapping in her hands as she twisted. Felt the warm splatter of blood as it hit her._

_Nelaros was cut down and died in her arms. Slow… She had been too slow._

_The pain in her heart coursed through her body. She felt the tattered remains of her dress become heavier and heavier as it absorbed more and more blood. Felt gore cover every single inch of her. Felt it become sticky as it cooled in the air as she moved forward, slaughtering everyone and everything in her path._

_She saw Shianni bloodied, battered, and broken on the floor._

_Slow… She was… so… slow…_

_The scenery around her faded to white, and standing before her was a woman wearing a mask she hadn’t seen since her previous life._

_A Japanese styled white ogre, an oni, mask._

_They both brandished their weapons against each other, but she was severely outclassed. She was completely forced on the defensive and then finally the woman stood above her, weapon pointing at her neck._

_“Weak. You are weak. You are powerless.”_

Her eyes opened as she’d sensed movement. She always had dreams of her own powerlessness, but the woman was a recent addition. She’d only joined in the fun of poking at her powerlessness recently, and now they were always the same: she’d relive the moments during which she’d felt the most powerless, and then be forced to fight the woman. She never had any hope of winning against her, but she didn’t mind, because she didn’t care. That woman was only there because she had lost control of herself, she knew that. It was because she had given in, because she was weak, because she was powerless, and because she had given in to the monster that had always been within her. The raging beast that was the counterbalance to her patience, her kindness, her love. She would probably be there until she got a firm hold of herself again… Which might never happen. It was easier to just not care anymore. Well, at least she had a visual representation of how she was fighting against herself in this life.

She just didn’t care anymore. 

Not just about those dreams.

She just didn’t care about anything anymore.

She was tired.

She was too tired to care anymore.

She was too tired to even hate anyone or anything anymore. 

What was even the point? It was a waste of time and energy.

If the world didn’t care about her, then why should she care about the world?

Dull, everything was dull and boring, and to think she had once loved this world. What an unbelievable idiot she was. This fucked up place, what good was it?

She remembered how she had once told Alarith, she had no intentions of leaving the Denerim Alienage, but, well, here she was. She couldn’t go home, she had no home, not anymore. Ruined, she ruined her own home, she destroyed the place she belonged with her own hands.

This was no good, she’ll probably have to eventually find herself again… She knew the name of what she was suffering under: it was survivor’s guilt. The guilt that stemmed from the fact that she had always been powerless, had always been unable to save and protect any of the people she cared for. She’s going down an unhealthy path, spiraling into the abyss, she’s tripping over herself, she’s lost sight of herself, she knows this. Was this even the kind of person she had wanted to be? Well, maybe it wouldn’t even matter. She’ll probably die soon anyway, and so she still couldn’t muster the energy to care.

Ahhh… She didn’t get to teach Shianni how to apply make-up. She didn’t get to— It doesn’t matter anymore. That her was figuratively dead… She was now dead in two different ways, what an achievement.

She only warded people away from her on basic instinct and reflex, she didn’t actually care, and she refused to accept _anything_ that _shem_ had offered her. She knew what his intentions were, but quite frankly, she didn’t give a fuck.

After spending a month traveling in a world she didn’t care about, she was tired. They separated from the caravan to continue on their way to Ostagar, they would probably get there the next day. Honestly, she just hoped these fucktards knew that she had no fucking clue about how to:

One: Camp.  
Two: Navigate large plains of land. Islands don't have large expanses of land, and she's always lived in a city in both lives.  
Three: Wear armor.

And as much as she hated sounding edgy, and lone-wolf like:

Four: Fight with literally ANYONE else.  
Five: Be responsible for anyone else in a fight  
Six: Fight a group of people and/or things.

Even now, she was just going with the flow and making shit up as she went along. That idiot probably didn’t even consider both her background and the living conditions under which she’d grown up in, and had probably only heard about her skills and abilities, and made a decision from there. What an idiot. Hmm, the Dalai Lama said… _Consider carefully, what prevents you from living the way you want to live your life?_

Answer: Duncan. Duncan is what’s preventing her from living her life the way she wanted to. Or rather, ending her life the way she wanted to.

Maybe she should just kill him.

She realized that the more time she spent with him, the more pieces of herself she lost.

***

Quiet.

It was too quiet.

The Alienage was too quiet without her beloved dumb cat of a cousin. Without her Fire Sister, it was so damn lonely… She knew that wherever she was, she was blaming herself. She was blaming herself for everything that happened. That it was her cousin in appearance, but there were no traces of the woman that she had once been, left. She needed her. She needed her here with her. She needed her to help her. She needed to help her. She missed her so damn much. She knew that she was dying inside for not being able to be there for her. She knew because her cousin had always loved so much, so wholly and completely, that there was no way that this whole ordeal had not broken her… She felt tears running down her face as a hand went to her back where her tattoos were, as her eyes fell on her braided cord bracelet that she’d made for her. She knew that they were both dying inside, both broken, both mourning the loss of the other…

Maker… Andraste… Someone… _Anyone_ … 

Please protect her cousin and bring her back home.

***

As they crossed the bridge to the ruins, she saw the light bounce off of the armor of three figures. Someone was here to welcome them? Bleeeeeh, and so, as they neared them, she put on her service smile… Except she recognized one of the people in shining armor. It was King Cailan. She was wearing a loose-fitting tunic with pulled out sleeves to hide the bandages she wore around her forearms, a simple pair of black cloth gloves, a simple pair of trousers, and her Mother’s boots… She probably looked like some random vagrant. Well, there was nothing she could do about it as of right now, so whatever. She could at least act the part of a humble servant since that was what she had trained to be. Her Father and Valendrian had always taught her to mind her manners and be respectful, and she wouldn’t be letting them down, if she could help it. Granted, she had no idea how to approach and/or talk to a king. For now, she’ll just mind her posture and maintain her service smile.

“Ho there, Duncan,” Cailan said walking up to meet them to shake his hand.

“King Cailan?” Duncan said in shock, “I didn’t expect—”

“A royal welcome?” Cailan replied, “I was beginning to worry you’d miss all the fun!”

Fun…? What fun? What was fun about battle? She enjoyed the hunt, sure, as well as moving her body, but being in an actual battle? That really wasn’t her shtick. She derived no pleasure in violence, in fact, she actually detested it quite a bit. The extent of her violent nature was simply doing what she needed to. Her martial prowess existed solely for the fact she felt more at ease knowing that should the need arise, she could defend herself, as well as a way for her to release pent up energy and find inner peace… Taking the lives of others like that… She could only pray that she never got used to it, for the second she did, was the second she would have truly completely and utterly lost sight of herself.

“Not if I could help it, Your Majesty,” Duncan replied.

“Then I’ll have the mighty Duncan at my side in battle after all! Glorious!” Cailan beamed before turning his attention to her, he was pretty chipper for a king… well, not as if she knew how kings really behaved, “the other Wardens told me you’ve found a promising recruit, I take it this is she?”

“Allow me to introduce you, Your Majesty,” Duncan began.

“There’s no need to be so formal, Duncan. We’ll be shedding blood together, after all,” Cailan replied, “ho there, friend! Might I know your name?”

“My name is Kallian Tabris, Your Majesty,” she said with a polite bow. It had been a while since she’d spoken more than one word, almost a full month in fact. She was glad she hadn’t lost her ability to speak.

“Pleased to meet you,” Cailan replied kindly, “the Grey Wardens are desperate to bolster their numbers, and I, for one, am glad to help them… I see you’re an Elf, friend. From where do you hail?”

“The city of Denerim, Your Majesty.”

“As do I! Though I’ve not been in the palace for some time, ” Cailan replied and… well… no shit Sherlock, Denerim was the capital city of Ferelden, you’re the King of Ferelden, where else would you have come from? “do you come from the Alienage? Tell me, how is it there? My guards all but forbid me going there.”

“I’d… rather not speak of it,” she replied with a small smile. Speaking of it would make her homesick, not only that, but she still hadn’t come to terms with the exact sort of brutality she had been subjected to the day she had been more or less kicked out, as well as the brutality she’d unleashed upon others.

“One day I’ll see those walls taken down,” Cailan declared, “your people have suffered enough.”

“I look forward to that day,” she replied with a lie. It wasn’t her place to tell a king what to do, wasn’t her place to advise a king. In both lives she was a commoner, she didn’t know the intricacies of ruling. 

Life was hard in the Alienage, sure. But it wasn’t completely miserable, there were happy times, sad times, hard times, but that was just how life was in general. Granted, they were pushed around by Humans quite a lot, and always looked at in suspicion. Not only that, but some asshole Humans would venture into the Alienage, as evidenced by her last day there. And there were many riots, and many fires, and far more deaths than other places likely saw… But they were a strong people, with a close-knit community… She had loved her life in the Alienage. The Alienage walls separated them from Humans, and locked them into the lives they led within them, but they also kept them safe. With the walls in place, Humans didn’t actually venture in all that often, didn’t have free reign over them and antagonize them as they could have if the walls hadn’t been in place. They were both prison and protection…

And she ruined it.

“Allow me to be the first to welcome you to Ostagar,” Cailan grinned, “the Wardens will benefit greatly with you in their ranks.”

“You are too kind Your Majesty.”

“And I’m sorry to cut this short, but I should return to my tent. Loghain waits eagerly to bore me with his strategies.”

…Weren’t strategies important in a war? Sure, they could be a bit boring, but in battle they were kinda sorta important, right? Were things different here?

“Your uncle sends his greetings,” Duncan said, “and reminds you that Redcliffe forces could be here in less than a week.”

Oh, yeah, they did run into a messenger a few days ago… Or something? Maybe? She hadn’t really been paying attention.

“Ha! Eamon just wants in on the glory,” Cailan replied, “we’ve won three battles against these monsters and tomorrow should be no different.”

“You sound very confident in that,” she pointed out. Glory? What glory was there to be had in battle? What glory was there in violence? 

“Overconfident, some would say,” Cailan chuckled, “right, Duncan?”

“Your Majesty, I’m not certain the Blight can be ended quite as…” Duncan replied choosing his words carefully, “quickly as you might wish.”

“I’m not even sure this is a true Blight,” Cailan replied, “there are plenty of Darkspawn on the field, but alas, we’ve seen no sign of an Archdemon.”

There were those words again: Blight, and Darkspawn. And now in addition to those two: Archdemon. What the fuck was even going on? What mess was she being forced into? She still didn’t know, and she was too tired to even care to know. Whatever, follow orders, kill the thing, and lose more and more pieces of herself. That’s what her life was probably going to be like from now on. Eventually, she’d be left with no trace of the person she had once been, in either lifetime. But she still couldn’t muster up the energy to care. Before, losing sight of herself was a terrible thought, but right now? Maybe it was better for her to discard the person she had been, the person who had loved more than anything. The person who had loved her life no matter the hard times, and sad times, because after the rain, there was the sun, not only that but even if you couldn’t see it, that didn’t mean the sun wasn’t there.

But now she was guilty, she had met injustice with injustice. The others had brought their punishments onto themselves, at any and all times, they could have simply stopped chasing her, but they had continued chasing her through the back alleys of Denerim. But now? Now she had perpetuated an unhealthy circle, an unhealthy way of life. She had been judged, sentenced, and now this was her punishment. Her punishment for being too slow, being too powerless, for losing sight of herself…

“Disappointed, Your Majesty?” Duncan asked.

“I’d hoped for a warlike in the tales!” Cailan admitted and inwardly, she frowned. A king should not hope for war, war is hell on everyone involved, there were no winners in war, only those who lost less, “a king riding with the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted god! But I suppose this will have to do. I must go before Loghain sends out a search party. Farewell Duncan, and you, Kallian.”

She gave a polite bow as he turned around and walked in the direction of what she assumed was the encampment. Tainted god? Tainted? God? What? Tainted god? What was even happening?

Okay, let’s think:

Blight: usually something that spoils or damages something, usually used more prevalently in the world of horticulture.  
Darkspawn: Probably something that spawns from darkness. Not a very creative name.  
Archdemon: Arch, beyond its use in architecture, is often used to describe the chief principal in something, the highest point. Demon, easy enough, a sort of apparition that many normally associate with evil.  
Tainted God: Well, that one's also pretty obvious.

Gods usually don’t have a physical form, they’re just random beings of energy or something along those lines. Which plays into the demon aspect of it. So, what? Was she an exorcist now? All of these things sounded like some sort of weird spiritual thing. Were they dealing with some random esoteric type of deal? She wasn’t a mage, and from what she’d gathered, neither were either Duncan or Cailan. How was she supposed to fight against apparitions? What is even happening? She still didn’t know what definition of Grey they were using, nor did she know who or what their charges were. Even though spiritualism and demonology were in line with her interests, she still had absolutely no fucking clue what was even going on. Well, whatever, she didn’t know have to know what was going on. She should probably find out later, know your enemy and all that jazz. But she was most certainly not asking _Duncan_.

“What the King said is true,” Duncan said after Cailan had left, “they’ve won several battles against the Darkspawn here.”

“Mm,” she dropped her service smile and demeanor and once again became emotionless, Duncan didn’t deserve it.

“…Despite the victories so far, the Darkspawn horde grows larger with each passing day,” Duncan said, she still refused to speak more to him than necessary, “by now, they look to outnumber us… I know there is and Archdemon behind this, but I cannot ask the King to act solely on my feeling.”

“He regards them highly.”

“Yet not enough to wait for reinforcements from the Grey Wardens of Orlais. He believes our legend alone makes him invulnerable. Our numbers in Ferelden are too few, as such, we must do what we can, and look to Teyrn Loghain to make up the difference… To that end, we should proceed with the Joining ritual without delay.”

“Ritual?”

“Every recruit must go through a secret ritual we call the Joining in order to become Grey Wardens… The ritual is brief, but some preparation is required. We must begin soon.”

“‘Kay.”

“…For now, feel free to explore the camp here as you wish. All I ask is that you do not leave if for the time being.”

“‘Kay.”

“…There is another Grey Warden in the camp by the name of Alistair. When you are ready, seek him out and tell him it’s time to summon the other recruits… Until then, I have business I must attend to. You may find me at the Grey Warden tent on the other side of this bridge, should you need to.”

“‘Kay.”

She watched Duncan leave, and then promptly decided that she would procrastinate as long as possible until seeing him next. Feel free to explore as she wished, hm? Well, don’t blame her if he didn’t see her for another week. Well, actually, chances were they’d send someone to look for her and red hair was pretty easy to pick out, especially her particular shade of scarlet. Fuckin’ lame. Not only that, but everyone likely knew who or what she was, especially since Duncan had told the other Wardens, and the other Wardens had apparently talked about it. Bleeeeeeeeh, being known before she reached a place was always gross and jarring. She guessed that was what people meant when they say that someone's reputation precedes them.

Well, might as well explore, she was already confused enough about this whole situation, and there was only so confused about something she should be.

She sneezed. Someone was talking shit about her. She didn’t blame them, she’d have talked shit about her too.

There was a tower nearby, it was behind a wooden gate with a guard in front of it. Curiosity drew her to it.

“Halt,” the Guard said, “the Tower of Ishal is off-limits. The men stationed inside are securing it now.”

“What was the Tower of Ishal for?”

“I think they used it once to watch for Wilders coming out of the forest.”

“Why is it off-limits?”

“By orders of Teyrn Loghain, the tower is being secured by his men to be used during battle… I’m told they discovered some lower chambers, and they don’t know how far they go. So for now, everyone’s to stay out.”

“Lower chambers?” she asked, she could get in there if she wanted too, but she didn’t want to make this guys life harder.

“I didn’t see anything like that when I was there, but who knows?”

“This is a pretty large ruin,” she said looking around.

“Goes back to the time of the Tevinter Imperium. Dwarven make. That’s probably why it’s still standing.”

“Good to know,” she bowed politely, “thank you for humoring my curiosity.”

“It was a nice distraction from just standing guard here,” the Guard replied, “Maker speed your steps.”

After noticing some elfroot, she picked them in case she’d needed them later. After she quickly glanced around she decided to pick the lock open on a chest and quickly furrowed her brows in confusion. Elfroot. Why was there elfroot in a locked chest? Who would lock elfroot in a chest? Continuing to look around this side of the bridge, she couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable. This whole situation, in general, made her feel uncomfortable, she’d had her own powerlessness shoved down her throat, she’d failed in the worst ways possible… She’d failed Nola, she’d failed Nelaros, she’d failed Shianni… And she’d failed herself.

After exploring everything on this side of the bridge, she decided to finally meander her way across it. Curious, she put her hands on the rail and looked out at the land spilling forth before her. It was jarring, a totally different landscape from her usual perches in Denerim. Regardless, she hauled herself up on top of it and stood arms crossed as she took in the sight, before continuing to walk on the rail humming a little tune as she went hopping over the small gaps in the rail as she went. At a high place, surrounded by nature… And she felt disconnected from the universe, which didn’t come at a surprise. She’d lost her sense of inner peace, she’d lost her sense of self. She waved to a guard as she trotted past him as he stared at her in a mix of shock, horror, and worry.

“Hail… You must be the Grey Warden recruit that Duncan brought,” a Guard said as she jumped down from the rail.

“Indeed I am.”

“This place hasn’t seen such bustle in centuries, I’ll wager,” the Guard said as his initial shock wore off, “need a hand getting anywhere?”

“Actually… What can you tell me about Ostagar?” she asked tilting her head in curiosity.

“Used to be a fortress, long time ago, so I understand, back in the days when the Wilders used to invade lowlands. You were just on the eastern side of the ruin. The Tower of Ishal is there, but Teyrn Loghain’s closed it off until the battle.”

“I was just talking to the guard over there,” she replied thoughtfully, “he said that they’d found some lower chambers so they need to secure it.”

“Interesting… Well, on this side is the King’s camp,” the Guard continued, “we got the Grey Wardens here, the Circle of Magi, the Chantry… you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting somebody important.”

She never really understood that idiom, who the hell would want to swing an animals deceased corpse somewhere? Let alone hit someone with it. What kind of sick-minded person would do that? All she hoped was that the person who swung it didn’t mind getting their own corpse swung around.

“The Circle of Magi is here?” she asked.

“A few mages, yes,” the Guard nodded, “they even brought those creepy quiet fellows: the Tranquil. Gives me the shivers when they talk, all cold and even… They’re to the north of here, bunched up with a herd of Templars glaring at them. Can’t miss it…”

Boy, did she know that feel. Though she did know a few children who were taken to the Circle, Elroy was one of them. If memory served correct, they were about the same age. Also, Tranquil? A calm serene person? Speaking coldly and evenly? Oh no, was she going to have to fight alongside mages? She’s never fought either with or against mages before. She hadn’t even so much as seen a mage cast a spell on purpose, she’d only seen them cast accidentally. She was figuratively in over her head.

“Wait! Do I hear dogs barking?!”

“Well… This is Ferelden, isn’t it?” the Guard chuckled, “the king has his kennels on the west side of camp. Stinks from all the hounds… These aren’t cute puppies, though— some of those dogs bite the Darkspawn and get too much of that blood in them… It’s like poison. A slow, painful death… Terrible.”

Emotional support doggos here she comes! Wait! Was this it? Was this where she was to be reunited with her pupper?! She couldn’t help but feel excitement lace through her, it’d be the best thing to happen to her in an entire months worth of suffering and misery.

“Ah, is there anywhere to get supplies?”

“Quartermaster,” the Guard replied pointing in the direction, “he’s just a bit to the northwest.”

“Ah, where is the King?” she asked she’d probably have to mentally prepare herself if she were to talk to him again.

“The King likes to spend time with his soldiers,” the Guard replied, “sometimes even does it without his bodyguards… Drives Teyrn Loghain wild, that does.”

Hm… That was actually a type of leadership she appreciated the most. Ones who bonded with their subjects and got to know the people around them, that kind of stuff.

“Where’s Duncan’s tent?” she asked so that she could further procrastinate and avoid him.

“Not far, it’s straight ahead, just past the royal encampment,” the Guard replied gesturing in the direction of it, “though, most of your fellows are in the valley with the army, though the recruits seem to be staying up here for now.”

“One last question… Do you know where the Grey Warden named Alistair is?” she asked.

“Try heading north,” the Guard gestured in that direction, “I think he was sent with a message to the mages.”

“Thank you,” she gave a small smile, “for humoring me and giving me directions.”

“You’re welcome, and good luck to you.”

“You too.”

Wondering if Elroy was around, or something along those lines, she decided to wander over to the Circle of Magi’s encampment. Templars glared at her as she peered around inside. Thinking about it, she was actually dressed quite slovenly, she didn’t blame anyone for looking at her with suspicion, she would too. She didn’t blame the people who attacked her either, honestly, she looked more like a servant than anything, though that did give her a bit of an edge. The only thing that marked her as not a servant were the pair of daggers sheathed and loosely strapped at the small of her back. They were expecting easy prey, and she was far from it. Still, perhaps she should invest in another set or two of nicer clothes, they would also have to be easy to move around in. She also wanted a pair of shoes that were easier to move around in, as much as she loved her Mother’s boots, they added too much rigidity to her leg movements. _Baguazhang_ required a great deal of flexibility.

Noticing a mage standing outside of the encampment she wandered up to her as she took her gloves off and stuffed them in her back pocket. She wasn’t used to wearing gloves. It was weird, and hard to get used to.

“Hello,” she greeted, “sorry to bother you, but, do you by chance happen to be one of the mages?”

“Greetings, young lady, and indeed, I am, allow me to introduce myself, I am Wynne, and I am one of the mages that the King has summoned to Ostagar,” Wynne replied introducing herself, “you are Duncan’s new recruit, are you not? He’s not a man easily impressed. You should be proud.”

“Hello, my name is Kallian, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said introducing herself before chuckling wryly, “and, honestly, I can’t help but think that there was some sort of mistake.”

“Kallian… As in Kallian Tabris?” Wynne asked, “would you happen to be from the Denerim Alienage?”

“Why, yes, yes I do,” she replied, “why do you ask?”

“There is a young apprentice in the Circle at Kinloch Hold,” Wynne replied, “I believe the boy’s name is Elroy… He used to talk about you frequently.”

“Ahahaha,” she laughed nervously.

“Nothing bad, I promise,” Wynne chuckled, “but regardless, well met, and good luck to you on the battlefield. To us all, in fact.”

“Luck hasn’t been really on my side lately,” she replied with a wry smile, “so I think I’ll stick to skill for the time being, it’s far less fickle.”

“Then I’m sure you have plenty of that to offer,” Wynne replied, “to defeat the Darkspawn, we have to work together. It doesn’t seem to be an idea everyone seems able to grasp.”

“Oh! Do you know much about Darkspawn?”

“Some, do you?” Wynne asked and she shook her head, “so you don’t know about the connection between them and the Fade?”

“What does the Fade have to do with it?”

“Any time your spirit leaves your earthly body, whether it’s to dream, or die,” Wynne explained, “it passes into the realm of dreams we call the Fade… It’s home to many spirits, some benevolent, others far less so. At the heart of the Fade lies the Black City.”

The Fade was kind of like the metaphysical _ether_ of her old world, she had already known that much. So this played in with her demon-type-of-deal theory. Especially since she’d heard the word god there. A godly entity would surely exist in the ether, right? Soooo what? She was being forced to… what? Join an organization of exorcists? Was she about to become an exorcist? What? Was the ether corrupted and now spirits were spilling out of it? What was even happening? She didn’t know how to exorcise jack shit. This whole ordeal was stressing out the small part of her that still cared, and now she was worried about losing that, too. 

She wondered if anyone from her past life lit a stick of incense for her.

“Sooo Darkspawn are just dream spirits?” she finally asked.

“Sadly, no, they are kin to neither the gentle spirits nor the malevolent demons,” Wynne answered and she felt a little relieved, she wouldn’t have to deal with weird esoteric shit, “shamefully, they were once the souls of men.”

“Ahhh, the folly of man then.”

“You’re quick to understand, some say the Black City was once the seat of the Maker,” Wynne nodded, “but when mages from the Tevinter Imperium found a way into the City, it was tainted with their sin… That Taint transformed those men, turning them into twisted reflections of their own hearts, and the Maker cast them back to earth, where they became the first Darkspawn… Or at least, that’s what the Chant of Light says.”

“Ah, I get it now, the Chantry capitalized on humanity’s fear of Darkspawn to turn the story of their creation into an allegory in order to warn people of their own hubris.”

If she had to connect it something from her old world… It would be the Tower of Babel if memory served correct: everyone could once speak the same language, and life was good until they decided to build a tower to reach the heavens. Then had the tower destroyed, and were then smote for their insolence, and so to ensure that that never happened ever again, humanity was cast down and rendered to speak many different languages… Allegory to both explain the existence of different languages as well as warn people against their own hubris.

“How sharp, as expected of the Kallian Tabris, Elroy speaks highly of,” Wynne smiled softly.

“Certainly still something to ponder, when given the opportunity,” she nodded, “and can you tell him I said hello when you have the chance?”

“Of course, and yes, occasionally, it’s wise to contemplate one’s actions,” Wynne replied, “but I’m certain Duncan has more to do than talk to me.”

“True,” she replied, “I suppose I should hop to that now. Thank you for humoring me and my inquisitiveness.”

“No problem,” Wynne replied and she waved as she walked off.

In all honesty, she should actually stop contemplating her actions, all it does is send her down the never-ending spiral, and it will most likely be the true end of her. Her accumulated guilt was already crushing her, she had strived to fight against it for the longest time… But in the end it still caught up to her, she could feel its hands on her throat making it hard to even breathe. In her dreams she constantly had fought against herself, but her will to win, her will to keep going was dead. She didn’t really have a reason to keep going, but this was her punishment. This was happening to her because she fucked up. Because she had been weak because she had been slow, because she had given in to her powerlessness and lost control because she had given in to her despair… She ruined everything, she destroyed everything she’d loved with her own hands. She’d destroyed her own home. She led people into danger in the back alleys of Denerim, she brought all of this on herself, and not just on herself, but on her family. The people she loved more than anything…

She deserved every bit of misfortune that befell her.

***

It would seem that Kallian was just as intelligent, sharp, polite, and inquisitive as she was rumored to be. No wonder Elroy had a bit of a crush on her. She was a very polite and well-spoken individual. Part of her wondered how someone like her came to be recruited into the Wardens. Fighting didn’t seem to be on the forefront of her mind, in fact, she exuded a sense of calm more than anything. Peace, kindness, compassion, and understanding… One wouldn’t normally turn to someone like that to have join the battlefield.

Though, she would admit that she had been a bit curious as to why the young woman wasn’t wearing armor. In fact, the only way you could tell that she wasn’t a servant was by the two daggers strapped at the bottom of her back, which was an odd place for one's weapons to be strapped to, most had their weapons sheathed at the tops of their back. Well, no matter, it wasn’t her place to tell her how to either dress herself or fight. She was clearly skilled, and from what she’d heard, Duncan had very high hopes for her. If she survived the Joining, that is. Though, she had a feeling that she, at least, would survive.

***

Quartermaster… Quartermaster…

She should probably invest in a set of armor in case she had to meet with important people again. She had a feeling that armor would clash with her _baguazhang_ and weigh down the small bit of _chāquán_ that she only knew because she thought the aerial movements of it were cool and were actually kind of fun. There was an accomplished feeling when pulling those stunts off. _Chāquán_ focused on speed, power, and aerial acrobatics, while _baguazhang_ focused more on flowing which better suited her feeling one with the universe. 

“You there! Elf!” the Quartermaster shouted at her, “where is my armor? And why are you dressed so preposterously?”

“Because I’m not here to be a servant,” she replied dryly.

“You’re… oh! Yes, of course! I… please forgive my rudeness! There are so many Elves running about, and I’ve been waiting for… it’s simply been so hectic! I never thought…” the Quartermaster said tripping over his own words and she just stared at him as he rambled. This was weird. This was really, really, really weird. This was so jarringly weird she didn’t even know how to react. Was she suddenly in a position of power? What the shit was going on? This was weird and she didn’t like it, “p— please pardon my terrible manners! I… I am just the quartermaster, a simple man, no one special.”

“Don’t worry about it, but maybe you should treat your servants a bit more kindly. They’re working hard too, y’know? And if you work and punish them too much then that’ll be why they slack off,” she said finally before holding up both hands, holding her sleeves up with her fingers like usual, “would you rather have a boss who treats you well, and appreciates the work you do, or a boss that cracks the whip and only scolds you?”

“…I’ve never thought of it that way, but you have a point,” the Quartermaster said after a bit of thought, “anyway, did you… come for some supplies, perhaps?”

“What kinda supplies are you selling?”

“Arms and armor, for the most part… It’s for the King’s men, but you Grey Wardens can buy what you need for a modest price,” the Quartermaster said before signaling her over so he could whisper, “I also have some… goods on the side I can provide. Strictly off the record, of course. To keep morale up, you understand.”

“Alright, I’m interested,” she replied, “let’s see you have.”

“So long as you keep it quiet,” the Quartermaster said before gesturing her to a chest on the side.

She decided to buy a few recipes and a set of armor that she’ll probably only wear once or twice max, and with her purchases made, she began meandering off well, until she was swiftly stopped by some random guy.

“Wait, did I hear that right?” the Man asked, “you’re the new Warden recruit?”

“You have a problem?”

“Oh, no, no, you see,” the Man replied, “me and ser knight were just betting on what the third recruit would be.”

“Who won?”

“Neither, I thought you’d be a Dwarf, and he thought you’d be a Human.”

“I see,” the more people underestimated her, the better. It allowed her to better turn the tables on others.

“The name’s Daveth,” Daveth said finally introducing himself, “it’s about bloody time you came along. I was beginning to think they cooked this ritual up just for our benefit.”

“Nice to meet you, Daveth,” she inclined her head politely, “my name’s Kallian… And what do you know about this ritual?”

“I happened to be sneaking around camp last night, see, and I heard a couple of Grey Wardens talking… So I listen in for a bit,” Daveth explained, “I’m thinking they plan to send us into the Wilds.”

“The Wilds?” she quirked a brow, she really missed buildings.

“We’re right on the northern edge of the Korcari Wilds here, miles and miles of savage country,” Daveth explained. Savage country… even in her past life she was a city girl, “my home village isn’t far, and I grew up on tales about the Wilds. Even been in there a few times… scary place.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” she waved her sleeve around, “I doubt they’d send us into pointless danger.”

“Then why do the Grey Wardens only recruit folks who can fight?” Daveth asked, “or are you their first basket weaver?”

“Which do I look more likely to do: weave a basket, or fight?”

“…Weave a basket.”

“Exactly, however, what my point was, is that if we do get sent into the Wilds,” she explained, “it’ll be for good reason. They’re short on members, they wouldn’t recklessly risk fresh recruits.”

“I see… I guess we’ll just have to wait and see then,” Daveth sighed, “like we have a choice.”

“Wouldn’t be here if I did,” she joked, “I’d be off weaving a basket if I could.”

“You take what you get, right?” Daveth laughed, good, he seemed a bit calmer now, “anyway, I expect it’s time for me to get back to Duncan. That’s where I’ll be if you need me for anything.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she nodded before deciding to wander up the ramp to the left of the Quartermaster. She asked the nurse in the Infirmary if she needed any help but instead was told about how bad the situation against the Darkspawn might be. Poor man, from how she saw it, he was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, and as terrible as it was, in a situation like this it was more than understandable. She offered him a small dose of light sedatives to help calm him down, explaining to the nurse that she used to help out at an apothecaries shop, as she gave her the recipe for the sedative as well as recommended dosages.

She wondered how Shianni was doing, it hurt her to be away from her. Especially because of what happened, it hurt her to not be able to be with her and help her get through this. To feel so powerless because of how far she was from her… But part of her was afraid of seeing her again, she didn’t want Shianni to see her like this. Broken, hollow, and ashamed of herself. Even if they were together, she wouldn’t be able to do much for Shianni, not as she was. Not as the person she was. They both needed someone who was stable to lean on, someone who wasn’t wavering on unsteady legs. Not someone who they would crush as they tried to simultaneously deal with each others problems. This broken hollowed-out shell of the person she was would not be able to do anything for anyone.

But perhaps that no longer mattered. 

She’d given in, she’d given up, she’d allowed herself to be crushed, she’d drank the poison, she’d lost control, she’d lost sight of herself, she’d lost her sense of self, she’d failed those she loved. 

She didn’t deserve to be the person she had once been.

“Greetings,” someone said drawing her out of herself, “you must be the third recruit we’ve heard about.”

“Hm?” she replied, “ah, sorry, you’ve heard about me?”

“Not a great deal. We’ve been waiting for your arrival, though,” Ser Jory replied, “Ser Jory is my name, and I hail from Redcliffe, where I served as a knight under the command of Arl Eamon.”

“Pleased to meet you,” she nodded politely, “my name is Kallian.”

“I wasn’t aware Elves could join the Grey Wardens,” Ser Jory said thoughtfully.

“That makes two of us, but is there a problem?”

“No, it’s just that in most places Elves aren’t allowed to join the military, but clearly, the Grey Wardens pick their recruits on their merits,” Ser Jory replied happily, he clearly respected the Wardens and was looking forward to this. Better not burst his bubble, “I hope we’re both lucky enough to eventually join the Wardens. Is it not thrilling to be given the chance?”

“I’m curious about the Joining ritual,” she replied skirting past his question.

“As am I. Has anyone told you about it?”

“Not much, but Daveth said that we’re probably going into the Wilds.”

“I’ve never heard of such a ritual,” Ser Jory frowned, “I had no idea there were more tests after getting recruited… I suppose since you’re finally here, I’d best get back to Duncan. I shall see you there.”

As she waved to him, her mind went to a single question: tests? What tests? He had to pass a test? What? A test? Why would he willingly join them? They figuratively ruined her entire life. Oh, gross… Was she some sort of special case? Actually, that was more likely, he’d gone to the Alienage specifically for her. The price she had to pay to be recruited was her sanity, and now everyone she loved blamed themselves and felt that they had failed and disappointed each other. Wonderful. Everyone was now a mess of emotional issues. He only got the recruit he wanted by _ruining_ her life. Are you proud of what you’ve done Duncan? She bet he was. The fucker. 

The embers that had come to life quickly extinguished themselves. It wasn’t solely Duncan’s fault, she knew that. It was just easier, more convenient to blame him. In the end it was her fault. It was her actions that gave him the opening he needed. It was _her_ fault.

She heard dogs and decided to follow the sounds of barking, but she was stopped by a man in a cage.

“Pssst, Elf, with the scarlet hair,” the Prisoner beckoned to her and she wandered over to him with a sigh, “I don’t suppose you happen to have a bit of kindness in you? All I want is some food and water. They haven’t fed me since I was locked up, and I’m starving.”

“What are you in for?”

“I’m a deserter, or so they think,” the Prisoner replied, “I bet there’s no arguing out of it though— armies are funny that way.”

“Did you desert?”

“I wasn’t deserting, but when you catch someone sneakin’ around camp in the middle of the night, what else are you gonna think? But does it matter? All I want is a bit of food and water.”

How had Daveth not been caught and thrown in a cage? Probably because Wardens. As someone who had never been privileged like that, it was gross.

“It matters to me, if your cause is just.”

“Aww, that’s sweet of you dearie—”

“Alright, I’m gone,” she said beginning to walk away.

“Wait! I’m sorry… It’s not as if they’re wrong, I probably would’ve deserted later, just not when they caught me, is all,” the Prisoner sighed and she turned back, “hope that doesn’t spoil your opinion of me. I’m still hungry enough to eat my shoe.”

“So why haven’t they fed you?”

Prisoners in her previous life were given a last meal.

“I expect nobody thought of it with all the battles and such.”

“And why would I want to help you?”

“Because you might want something I don’t need. Them Circle wizards got a chest they keep things in, magical things… and I stole the key… That’s why I’m here. I got one of them drunk, took his key, and tried to sneak to the chest. They assumed I was deserting.”

“Ah, a thief then, must be nice to be put in a cage instead of brutally beaten and then killed.”

“How about, I trade it to you for some food and water?”

“They didn’t find it when they arrested you?”

“I swallowed it. But it’s…”

“Gross,” she couldn’t help wrinkling her nose in disgust.

“Yeah, well, do you want it or not?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she sighed, one last meal wouldn’t hurt anyone she guessed, though the chest was being guarded by a Tranquil, she’d probably have to wait for another opportunity. She was curious as to whether this chest was really worth this guys imprisonment.

“Just ask my guard for his,” the Prisoner said pointing, “he’s still got some food. I saw him put it in his coat.”

“He—”

“Lucky dog. You Grey Wardens get to ride with the king while I’m left with the drudgery of guarding this deserter,” the Guard grumbled at her cutting her off, “they should have just hanged him. Put his head on a pike as an example.”

Lucky? What the hell is lucky about being forced into a large battle? She didn’t know the first thing about fighting in a group, let alone fighting a group. Hell, she didn’t even know how to wear or even move around in armor. These were all things she had never had to consider in her entire life up until now. What the hell is wrong with these people? Or was it her? Was there something wrong with her? More likely. Actually, no, there _was_ something wrong with her. She knew that.

“I just had a small chat with him,” she said finally.

“Don’t expect it was an enlightening conversation,” the Guard scoffed.

“He simply asked for some food and water,” she replied.

“Did he, now? Well, since nobody sends me nothing to feed him with, the only way he’ll get that is if I give him mine.”

“Surely you can spare a bit of kindness within you, ser,” she replied, “he’ll be hanged soon, would you not want one last meal before you were to die?”

“Alright, alright. I guess the poor fella could stand to have one meal in his belly before he hangs,” the Guard acquiesced handing her the package, “don’t know why you care… I had nothin’ to do with it, though. If anyone asks why he’s burpin’ I’m gonna say it was you, just so you know.”

“Thank you, ser,” she replied wryly, “and, well, it was me, so there’s no lie in that.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

She sighed as she took the package to the Prisoner, honestly, the key wasn’t even why she was doing this. He’ll probably still give it to her, she had a handkerchief in her pocket she could probably stash it in.

“So…? Brought me some food, have you?” the Prisoner looked at her with hope, “I’m so hungry I could faint dead away.”

“Here,” she said holding up the package of food and water.

“Much obliged… You’re a kind soul, you are!” the Prisoner said gratefully as she held out her handkerchief for him to drop the key in, “may Andraste herself rain blessings upon you!”

Finally free, she started back on her journey to finding her way to the kennels. As she continued moving with her goal set in mind, she overheard someone giving a lecture on Darkspawn, and decided to half-listen to it while she walked past, she really wanted to get to the kennels before she got stopped by someone else. Apparently, their blood was black as sin and poisonous. Might as well slit your throat if you get tainted with it, huh? That sucks, slicing your own throat was a pretty terrible way to die. Your blood still gets pumped to your brain so you can feel that agony, not only that but even after a beheading you’re still alive for a few seconds… Gruesome stuff.

The kennels. Finally. Except there was a large wooden fence in place and she was too short to see over the top of it. No doggos for her.

“Hmmm… This isn’t good. I’d hate to waste such a promising member of the breed…” what she presumed was the Kennel Master sighed before noticing her trying to peer around the fence, “are you the new Warden?”

“Something like that, yes,” she said still trying to see into the kennels.

“I could use some help,” the Kennel Master replied looking at her quizzically.

“What’s the problem?” she asked turning to look at him.

“This is a Mabari, smart breed, and strong,” the Kennel Master explained, and she got a bit of deja vu, “her owner died in the last battle and the poor hound swallowed Darkspawn blood. I have medicine that might help, but I need her muzzled first.”

“I can give it a shot,” she replied holding a hand out for the muzzle.

“For now, go in the pen and let her smell you. We’ll know right away if she’ll respond,” the Kennel Master replied gesturing to the gate, “let’s hope this works. I would really hate to have to put her down.”

She felt it as she entered the pen, a familiar presence. One she’d longed to feel for the past eighteen years of her life. In her past life, Chi-chan had been one of the top military dog breeds, a Malinois.

“Is that you, Chi-chan?” she asked super quietly and she looked at her in a sign of recognition. She still recognized her, wonderful. She gently reached out to her presenting her with the back of her hand, and as expected, she trotted up to her and nuzzled it, “Chi-chan, you got swole as fuck.”

“Oh! She seems to be quite taken with you,” the Kennel Master said in shock as he handed her the muzzle.

“How many times am I going to have to save you?” she hummed quietly as she pressed their foreheads together before gently putting the muzzle on her. In her past life, Chi-chan had been found in a box, abandoned on the side of the road with the rest of her siblings before finding their way into each other's lives, “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Well done! Now I can treat her properly— poor girl,” the Kennel Master said as she left the pen, “…Come to think of it, are you heading into the Wilds any time soon?”

“Probably,” she nodded.

“There’s a particular herb I could use to improve her chances, it’s a flower that grows in the swamps here if I remember,” the Kennel Master explained, “if you happen across it, I could use it. It’s very distinctive: all-white with a blood-red center.”

“Where can I find it?”

“It usually grows in deadwood that collects at the edge of ground pools,” the Kennel Master answered, “there should be plenty this time of year.”

“I’ll keep on the lookout,” she nodded decisively.

“Good,” the Kennel Master replied, “in the meantime, I’ll begin treating our poor friend.”

She was definitely hunting that flower down, even if it meant that she had to sneak out of the encampment, no walls would hold her back. She NEEDED this.


	8. How the Future King Met the Cat

In the beginning, there were people who thanked the Maker that Kallian was gone. 

He, Shianni, Cyrion, and Valendrian had all felt her loss immediately.

But after a while… Everyone began to feel her loss as well.

They felt it in the children who ran up to their house wondering if Kallian was too busy to play. In the clothes that were getting too small. In the sheets and blankets that were beginning to run threadbare. In the medicinal stocks that were beginning to run out. In the lack of life in the Alienage. In the lack of laughter. In the lack of someone who always had a joke and a quick smile to make you feel better. In the lack of someone you could confide in and know that your secrets would be safe. In the lack of someone who always knew what to say and when to say it. In the lack of someone who would always notice if something was bothering you and would sit with you until you were ready to talk about it.

In the end, they all began to feel it.

And it was painful.

***

Why did he have to get caught by the Revered Mother?

Sometimes he wished he were a rogue, then maybe he could sneak around and escape notice. He was supposed to meet with the new Warden recruit, but here he was, about to start arguing with a mage and wondering whether he’d be turned into a toad sometime soon. 

Thinking about it, what was the recruits name again? 

What letter did it start with? C? Q? K? 

Probably a K. 

Or it could be a C.

Or a Q.

Well, now he was back at square one. All he knew was that she was a Female Elf from Denerim that Duncan apparently had high hopes for.

C… Catherine? No, that wasn’t it. Carol? No. Cathy? Definitely not… 

Great, now he’s going to look like some great bumbling idiot. Well, that was kind of what he was.

Right, time to go piss off the mages.

***

She asked a few more people if they’d seen Alistair, he could have moved within the time of her asking the guard earlier and now. Which was a smart move, because apparently, he had. What kind of person was he? Probably a serious, uptight, square of a person. Grey Wardens seemed like they’d be the type. Though she was aware that she was unfairly stereotyping him, he could have been way different than Duncan, not everyone matched their stereotype. Not only that, but she didn’t know what other Grey Wardens were like, the only one she’d met was Duncan. Well, he and the two other recruits. She was a little concerned about the two of them, Ser Jory seemed the type to lose his nerve easily, so did Daveth. Well, she had experience with that, so it shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Hopefully. There was no use thinking about it now, she should just worry about crossing that bridge when she gets there.

“What is it _now?_ Haven’t the Grey Wardens asked more than enough of the Circle?” who she presumed to be a mage said as she jumped onto the rail and began scaling it to the area they were speaking in.

“I simply came to deliver a message from the Revered Mother, Ser mage,” who she presumed was Alistair replied, “she desires your presence.”

“What Her Reverence ‘desires’ is of no concern to me!” the Mage grumbled as she squat down on the rail elbows resting on her knees with her chin in her hands as she watched, “I am busy helping the Grey Wardens, by the King’s orders, I might add.”

“Should I have asked her to write a note?” Alistair asked as she wondered if maybe she should instead sit on the rail rather than perching on it precariously.

“Tell her I will not be harassed in this manner!” the Mage glared as she wished she had something to snack on.

“Yes, I was harassing _you_ by delivering a message,” Alistair sighed as she decided to just stay precariously perched, it was more challenging if she fell then it was her fault.

“Your glibness does you no credit.”

“Here I thought we were getting along so well,” Alistair replied, “I was even going to name one of my children after you… the grumpy one.”

Was he planning to name his child Grumpy? Was he fathering Seven Dwarven Children? Or was he going to just nickname his child after the mage? That’s rather mean.

“Enough! I will speak to the woman if I must!” the Mage grumbled before stomping off, “get out of my way, fool!”

“Great, now I’m probably going to be in trouble, again,” Alistair sighed heavily, “I should probably go start looking for the new Warden recruit.”

“I’m right here,” she said raising a hand before standing up and leaping down from her perch. Apparently, she’d ended up startling him.

“How long were you there?” Alistair asked.

“Mmmm… Since almost the beginning,” she replied tapping her chin in thought, “I think.”

“There’s just something about the Blight that just brings people together, you know?” Alistair replied, ah, he was the type to tell jokes to calm himself down.

“True,” she said, “many people wouldn’t be here if it were not for the Blight.”

“It’s like a party! We could all stand in a circle and hold hands, that would give the Darkspawn something to think about,” Alistair replied, “you’re Duncan’s new recruit, right? The Elf from Denerim?”

“Yes,” she replied curiously, “what have you heard about me?”

“Just that he spoke quite highly of you.”

“Not quite sure why I’m nothing special.”

“Well, allow me to introduce myself, I’m Alistair, the new Grey Warden,” Alistair said, “though you already knew that.”

“My name is Kallian,” she nodded politely, “pleased to meet you.”

“Right! That was the name,” Alistair said, “as the junior member of the order, I’ll be accompanying you when you prepare for the Joining.”

“What can you tell me about the Joining, anyway?”

“Honestly, nothing,” Alistair said quickly, “try not to worry about it. It will just distract you.”

“I see,” zero out of ten points. That was not comforting even in the slightest.

“You know… it just occurred to me that there have never been many women in the Grey Wardens,” Alistair said thoughtfully, “I wonder why that is.”

“You… want more women in the Grey Wardens?”

“Would that be so terrible?” Alistair said as she wrinkled her nose, “not that I’m some drooling lecher or anything… Please stop looking at me like that.”

“I have some questions about the Grey Wardens,” this would probably be a good time for her to figure out what the fuck Grey Wardens were, who or what their charges were, and what the fuck they actually did, “if you wouldn’t mind indulging me.”

“What would you like to know?”

“I don’t know anything about the Grey Wardens, what can you tell me?”

“Well… Let’s see, surely you’ve heard of Weisshaupt Fortress?” Alistair replied and she shook her head, “it’s a great aerie carved into the white cliffs far off in the Anderfells. That’s where the Grey Wardens once kept their griffons. Unfortunately, the griffons died out and our numbers have dwindled since the last Blight. There’s only a handful left in Ferelden. A few more in other nations.”

Griffons, huh? Her last world had stories about that… From… Where was it again? Egypt? Yeah, it was probably Egypt. That’s where the sphinx was from, so it made sense. While they were a thing in that world they still hadn’t actually _existed_. It was interesting to hear that they were actually a thing that was an actual thing that actually existed.

Wait… wait a minute… Holy fucking shit, she’s an idiot. She just realized that a lot of the flora and fauna of this world were the same as in her old world. How is that something she _just_ realized? Probably because he was talking about how griffons had once actually existed here when in her old world they were simply a myth. It wasn’t really the sort of thing one really thinks about on a day-to-day basis. All she needed to know was if it were either dangerous or if she could cook it for food. It didn’t matter whether it was also from her old world or not, she just needed to know if it was a thing.

“So, what makes you guys so special?”

“The Grey Wardens are warriors without equal,” Alistair answered, “Darkspawn threatened to destroy the world four times over. Each time the Grey Wardens led mankind to victory. Nobody knows more about Darkspawn, and nobody’s better equipped to deal with them. You’ll see, trust me.”

Oh, no… In the world of her past life, there were once people who believed that if you ate the hearts of your enemies, you could add their power to yours. Was she going to have to eat a Darkspawn heart? Gross. That was… super-duper grody. Grodier than a poopy key… Wait, weren’t they poison? Then again, they might have a special way to prepare it. Even in her past life, there had been poisonous things that people were able to eat via specific preparation methods, some examples of it were the infamous fugu which needed to be cut in a specific way, Greenland sharks, which were fermented, some seaweeds that needed to be cured in quicklime. Honestly, she didn’t quite understand why they would go out of their way to figure out how to eat them if other people had already died after eating them. Seriously, people are weird. In any case, she somehow doubted Darkspawn would be a delicacy like that…

…Actually, dying from it might not be so bad. A disgusting way to go, sure, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“What can you tell me about the Joining?”

“There’s… not a lot I can tell you,” Alistair replied, “we go and collect Darkspawn blood, and then you’ll hear everything.”

Ah, blood. That wasn’t nearly as bad. Blood’s just drink it and then bam, done. Hearts on the other hand? Bite, chew and then swallow. Can’t get around tasting or feeling it in your mouth, you’d be able to feel the texture of it too. Bleh. Still…

“Fair enough, if it’s that much of a secret, then I won’t pry more than I already have, but do I have to?”

“The Joining is the price we pay, all of us, for being able to defeat the Darkspawn. You can’t refuse.”

“Sooooo what are the Grey Wardens, then?” she asked getting away from questioning him about the Joining, she already knew the down low, so she didn’t need to know anything else about it. Feigning ignorance was a thing she could do, she was actually rather well practiced at it, “knights? Heroes?”

“I… don’t know if I’d go _that_ far. Duncan says the Grey Wardens do whatever is necessary to protect mankind from Darkspawn… That means some pretty extreme things: whatever it takes to bring victory.”

Ah, that was why they chose the shade grey. They operated outside the bounds of the law to do whatever was necessary to ensure the end of their goal, and their charges were apparently the entirety of mankind. A defender of mankind, huh? Some people would probably be all for that, but she’d never really been one of those people. She liked doing things in small doses, in more personal and realistic ways. Fighting for the glory of mankind just wasn’t her shtick. People who did that tended to suffer a massive breakdown when they discovered something monstrous about their work, like they were being used, or the cause they were fighting for didn’t actually exist. They always crashed and burned so hard it was a bit heartbreaking. _Then what was the purpose for everything?! Was everything I sacrificed for this cause for nothing!? What was even the point!?_ that’s how villains are born. Spurned believers. Sad stuff, really.

She didn’t blame them, she had experienced the same. It was brutal. She didn’t regret killing Vaughan, she was going to regardless. She was ashamed of _how_ she’d done it. She just wished that _she_ was the one who’d paid the highest price for her actions, not those she loved, not those around her. The world is unfair, she knew this… She still hated that she was the one who rampaged, she was the one whose brutality they fell under, and yet she’s not the one who has paid the worst price for it. It wasn’t her, she hated that she was being forced to join the Wardens, sure, but she still knew that it wasn’t her that got the worst part of the bargain, it wasn’t her that got fucked over the most. It was the people she loved and cared for… Balls.

She also hated that phrase: _whatever it takes to bring victory_. That’s how people who know they’re doing something completely and utterly abhorrent justify their actions, and when those people find out that their cause was shit in the first place… those are definitely the ones who end up becoming villains.

Basic rule of thumb: if you have to wonder if what you’re doing is really for the best, then you should probably not do it and instead reconsider your options. _Am I doing the right thing?_ is a pretty clear sign that your conscience is suffering, and that you should probably cease and desist for the sake of your own sanity and inner peace.

She was also a little too old to be boldly declaring herself as an ally of justice, though that had never really been a goal of hers.

“The Grey Wardens really actually have the right to recruit anyone, then? I heard they did but didn’t believe them.”

“King Maric, Cailan’s father, reaffirmed the power the Grey Wardens were given during the Blights,” Alistair explained, “in practice, we can’t conscript too often without hurting our cause. We were exiled from Ferelden once… Best not to let that happen again.”

“Where’re all the other Grey Wardens?”

“The others are camped with the King’s soldiers in the valley, the King’s given us a position of honor at the vanguard, despite our small numbers,” Alistair replied, “I think Cailan is actually excited to ride into battle with us. Maybe he thinks that’s what his father would’ve done.”

“What do you know about the upcoming battle?”

“The one tomorrow? I’ll tell you, it’s Teyrn Loghain we should be looking to win it, not the King, Cailan just wants his place in history. The Teyrn is the one planning the strategy,” Alistair replied honestly, and she just hoped no one else was around, “errr… well, that’s my opinion anyway. I guess I should be thankful the King favors us Grey Wardens, but I know who’s keeping the lid on the pot.”

“What are our chances of success?”

“I’m sure Teyrn Loghain has the battle planned to the last detail. Still… no Blight has ever been defeated with so little cost.”

“And if we fail?”

“If we don’t break the horde here, Duncan says it will spread until it engulfs all of Ferelden. Then it will take an alliance of nations to fight it. Which would be bad. Neither the King nor the Teyrn really seems to believe this is a real Blight, however.”

“Bad? Bad seems to be putting it lightly… What even _is_ a Blight?”

“Do you want the Chantry’s version or the truth?”

“Hit me with the truth.”

“The truth is, we don’t really know. They come up from the ground and that’s as far as we’ve gotten.”

“I see, what’s the Chantry’s version?” she already heard what Wynne said, but maybe he has another take on it. Especially as someone who was in a militaristic order dedicated to stopping them.

“According to the Chant of Light, the Maker imprisoned the Old Gods underground long ago as punishment for tricking mankind into worshiping them,” ah, we were already off to a different start, “the Old Gods still whispered to some men and taught them magic. These men became the magisters of the Tevinter Empire. The magisters used their gift to enter the Golden City, tainting it and themselves. They were cast out by the Maker and became the first Darkspawn. They fled underground, bringing their Taint to their gods. The tainted Old Gods were the Archdemons, who rose from their prisons and led the Darkspawn against the world.”

“And that was the First Blight?”

“Yes, and it nearly wiped us out. When defeated, the Darkspawn flee back underground to seek out another Old God to Taint, thus bringing another Blight.”

“What exactly _is_ an Archdemon?”

“The Old Gods were dragons, so the stories say, big ones, intelligent, even,” Alistair answered, ah dragons, not some weird mass of corrupted energy, what a relief. Dragons could be killed, they had physical bodies, balls of energy? Not so much, “the Tevinter Empire had big statues of them. Each dragon had a name and a place in the cosmos… It’s all very intricate… the Archdemons may not be the Old Gods, but they’re definitely dragons.”

“How do the Wardens know this is a Blight?”

“The Grey Wardens keep watch. We… feel the Darkspawn when they come. You’ll understand after the Joining, if you… well, you’ll understand. Not to mention people start to notice when Darkspawn pour out of the Wilds and Taint everything around them. Just a guess.”

“Where is the Archdemon for this Blight?” she asked. 

It sounded like she was about to get a sixth sense. A Darkspawn sensor. Gross. Also, 'survive', she had a feeling the word he was looking for there was ‘survive’. They were definitely ingesting it. Great. She was about to be poisoned both literally and figuratively. What an accomplishment.

“We haven’t seen it yet. People are beginning to think this is just an unusually large Darkspawn raid without an Archdemon to unify them. But seriously… the Archdemon could be in the Wilds, or underground. It could be hiding. Just because it hasn’t shown itself doesn’t mean it isn’t out there.”

People were stupid. Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there.

“So, why are people skeptical?” 

“The Grey Wardens killed so many Darkspawn by the end of the last Blight, people decided they were gone for good.”

“That’s dumb. How do the Grey Wardens end the Blight exactly? Or is it just killing the Archdemon?”

“We chop off the snake’s head. It’s the only way. But according to texts, the most famous Grey Warden, Garahel, killed the Archdemon Andorhal in personal combat at the Battle of Ayesleigh to end the last Blight… Without the Archdemon to command them, the Darkspawn flee back underground.”

“Why not just kill them underground?”

“They’ve controlled the Deep Roads ever since they defeated the Dwarven Kingdoms. Even if we invaded, we can only chase them so far.”

“How many of them are there?”

“Thousands? Tens of thousands? They’ve had centuries to build up their numbers.”

“If that's the case, my guesstimate would be more along the lines of millions or even billions," she replied before figuring that she might as well ask, "why here?”

“We’re at the edge of the Korcari Wilds, the eye of the Blight’s storm, right where the horde will be coming… Ostagar itself is an excellent defensive position, the Wilders were pushed back from here time and again in ancient days.”

“I see.”

“So, I’m curious,” Alistair said, “have you ever actually encountered Darkspawn before?”

“Nope,” she shook her head.

“When I fought my first one, I wasn’t prepared for how monstrous it was,” Alistair admitted, “I can’t say I’m looking forward to encountering another.”

“Well, better find that courage, you’re going to be facing a lot more from the sounds of it,” she replied, “oh, yeah, what was that argument about?”

“With the mage? The Circle is here at the King’s request and the Chantry doesn’t like that one bit. They just _love_ letting mages know how unwelcome they are. Which puts me in an awkward position. I was once a Templar.”

“That would be awkward, yes,” she nodded. 

Politics were always a messy situation, she didn’t envy him in the least.

“I’m sure the Revered Mother meant it as an insult— sending me as her messenger— and the mage picked right up on that… I never would have agreed to deliver it, but Duncan says we’re all to cooperate and get along. Apparently, they didn’t get the same speech.”

“If we’re going to be working together, I suppose I could stand to learn more about you,” she said thoughtfully.

“As I said, I was trained as a Templar before Duncan recruited me about six months ago,” Alistair sighed, “the Chantry raised me, and becoming a Templar was a decision made for me a long time ago… Duncan saw I wasn’t happy, and figured my training against mages could double for fighting Darkspawn. Now, here I stand a proud Grey Warden… The Grand Cleric wouldn’t have let me go if Duncan never forced the issue. I’ll always be grateful to him.”

“You speak fondly of Duncan,” she pointed out trying to get a feel for his thoughts on Duncan. Honestly, she just needed to know if she should act like she liked the guy or not.

“I spent years in that Chantry, hopelessly resigned to my fate,” Alistair replied, “Duncan was the first person who cared what _I_ wanted. He risked a lot of trouble with the Grand Cleric to help me.”

“I see,” she replied. Too bad he didn’t care about what _she_ had wanted. Didn’t care about her sanity that was already fraying at the seams. She’d do well to hide this from him, he didn’t seem like the type who would take this kind of news well. Not only that, but she supposed that he _had_ done well by him, and she supposed she could respect that. And so she decided to feign interest, “what can you tell me about him?”

“Duncan is the leader of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden… which he would say doesn’t mean much, as there aren’t many of us here. Yet, anyway. Beyond that, he’s a good man. A good judge of character. I owe him a lot” Alistair replied, yep, he clearly respected him quite a lot, “what about you? What do you think of him?”

“He seems like a kind but firm man,” she lied with a kind smile, “I owe him a lot, too.”

“Fair enough… He’s done the best he can with what little he has… and that includes me, I guess,” Alistair replied, “by the way, have you met Daveth and Ser Jory yet?”

“Indeed I did,” she nodded.

“That’ll make things easy, then,” Alistair replied, “they’ll both be back with Duncan by now.”

“Well, I look forward to working with you,” she nodded politely.

“You do? Huh, that’s a switch,” Alistair replied, “if you have any more questions, let me know. Otherwise, lead on!”

“Huh? I’m leading?” she stared at him blankly. Here was that weird position of power thing again.

“Well, I don’t know if you want to stop by somewhere else,” Alistair replied, ah, he was the type that was more comfortable following than leading. Fair enough, she knew people like that. Soris was like that. Not comfortable taking the initiative, and there was nothing really wrong with that. Everyone had their own preferences, things they liked doing, and things they didn’t. She was honestly more the type who liked to go with the flow, but she was also the type who would step up to the challenge if no one else did.

“Okay,” she nodded.

She had experience dealing with these types, and she was more than happy to help. She was going through so much emotional and mental misery, that she’d truly rather no one experience the same, so with that in mind, she would keep up this cheerful facade. If only to ease the worries and hearts of those around her. This was something she was very well-versed in, life in the Alienage could be harsh, and unforgiving, and she’d always strived to help ease their suffering, both external and internal. That was simply how she was, in both of her lifetimes. She had never been the type to sit idle while others were suffering around her.

***

Kallian truly didn’t know anything about the Grey Wardens, Blights, Darkspawn, Archdemons, and Old Gods. Which had come as a surprise, he didn’t know that there were people who knew absolutely nothing about them. Even he’d heard at least _some_ stories about them growing up. He expected her to at last know about Garahel, since he was a celebrated Elven hero.

So far, she met zero of his expectations. He also didn’t expect her to look, move and act more like a servant than anyone with martial prowess. Maybe it was because she was a rogue, they probably had to sneak around and work hard behind the scenes. Well, Duncan obviously had a reason for recruiting her, so she must have a considerable amount of skill. Especially since Duncan had such high hopes for her, and he wasn’t someone who was easily impressed just like that. Ser Jory, had to participate in and win a tournament, and Daveth was caught cutting Duncan’s purse. Duncan wouldn’t recruit and speak so highly of someone with no martial prowess. He guessed he’d just have to wait and see what the extent of her true combat capabilities.

He was just glad he managed to successfully dodge her questions about the Joining. She was rather persuasive, but luckily she simply stopped pushing the subject, something he was grateful for.

He just hoped that no one would die this time, though he knew that was a vain thing to hope for, someone _always_ died.

***

Exhausted.

She was exhausted. 

She had never camped before, and Howe’s men had struck in the middle of the night. She had neither armor nor money. Somehow, she’d managed to kill a group of bandits to take their stuff. She wasn’t used to traveling like this. She just hoped her brother was okay. She would need to rendezvous with him after seeking asylum with Arl Eamon, he could probably help her send a message to him without alerting anyone to the fact that she was still alive. That bastard Howe would probably stop at nothing to ensure that she too lay dead until all the Couslands were dead.

Part of her wanted to just give up, wondered what the point was. 

She’d lost her family, her castle, her servants, her dog.

But she couldn’t. She could still hear the screams, hear her parents demanding her to escape without them.

She _will_ make Howe pay for this. 

She _will_ avenge everyone she’d lost that night.

She _will_ make him regret what he’s done.

She _will_ end him.

Everything.

She lost everything. 

She _will_ make him taste the bitter drought of despair that he had forced her to swallow. She would not rest until he paid for this treachery. Until she avenged everyone who’d aided in her escape.

And so, fueled with hatred and spite, she pushed herself on-wards.


	9. How the Witch Met the Cat Who Probably Lost Another Life

She led them back to Duncan, she didn’t really have anywhere else she wanted to stop by, she had explored the entire ruined fortress. Alistair was also probably getting antsy and wanting to hurry along, so not wanting to tip Alistair off to her true feelings, she put on her service smile. She really didn’t want to mess up his views of the man. Duncan had clearly done right by him to the point where he really, truly respected him. She didn’t have the heart to shatter his impressions of Duncan like that. Not only that, but she was clearly in the minority. Daveth and Ser Jory seemed to also hold a great deal of respect for him.

It was fine, her past life had this type of thing down to a science, hiding things because she didn’t want others to know about it, didn’t want others to worry about it, didn’t want them to focus too much on her when they had more important things to worry about… 

Hello, depression my old friend, guess who’s back for some quality time. That fear, and self-hatred for having issues trying to deal with them even though she _knew_ what was wrong, what could help, what her problems were, and that it wasn’t always something she could help. Especially since it was a chemical reaction happening in her brain that she had absolutely no control over, but still beat herself up about it because… Well, what else was there to do? Who else should she be mad at for it all? It was her body that was working against her.

Knowing doesn’t always make things easier. In fact, in her case, it actually made it harder. An endless spiral, of _I know this, I know this, so why is it still so hard? I know everything about it. I know I can’t help it, I really do. So why is it hard? Why can’t I do this? What’s wrong with me? I know I need to stop doing this to myself. I do. So, why? Why can’t I?_ …

Hello, again, downward spiral into oblivion. It’s certainly been a while, hasn’t it? How will you suffocate me this time?

It probably didn’t help that she was probably pissed off at the world for pulling this shit on her, and that inner turmoil and suffering was what truly made her feel disconnected with the universe. It was because she couldn’t believe it happened, still couldn’t come to terms with it…

“You found Alistair, did you? Good, then I’ll assume you are ready to begin preparations,” Duncan said as they walked up, “assuming, of course, that you’re quite finished riling up the mages, Alistair.”

“What can I say? The Revered Mother ambushed me,” Alistair replied, “the way she wields guilt they should stick her in the army.”

“She forced you to sass the mage, did she?” Duncan replied, it was like watching a father chastise his son, “we cannot afford to antagonize anyone, Alistair. We don’t need to give them more ammunition against us.”

“You’re right, Duncan,” Alistair sighed, yep, definitely like watching a father chastise his son. Also true, they were probably angry enough that Duncan used his stupid Right of Conscription bullshit on her, “I apologize.”

“Now then, since you are all here, we can begin,” Duncan said turning to address them and handing them three vials, one vial each, “you four will be heading into the Korcari Wilds to perform two tasks. The first is to obtain three vials of Darkspawn blood, one for each recruit.”

Yep, definitely ingesting it, how disgusting. There was just something gross about drinking the blood of your enemies. Sure, she liked meat, but she wasn’t about to drink their blood and stuff… That was just way too extreme for her.

Also, Wilds, and forests. Wonderful. She missed civilization, semi-even roads, buildings, not having to worry about tripping over things like roots and shit.

Actually, just not having to worry about getting in fights, in general, sounded great. Violence just really wasn’t her thing… Though she supposed it was a fitting punishment for her actions. Forced to do the thing she hated because that’s what she did to others… You reap what you sow. She’ll probably have to tap into that monster, and hope she doesn’t lose more of her sanity. There was only so much of it she could afford to lose before she simply became another mindless killing machine… Well, that might be better in the long run. It was a rather depressing thought, but in the end it was ultimately her own fault.

Well, at least she’ll be able to get the flower to save Chi-chan… Though, she probably won’t be able to call her Chi-chan in this life. They didn’t know what mochi was, and they also didn’t have the suffix -chan. What did Shianni name her stuffed Mabari? Diana? An oddly normal name, but it’ll do. If she had to get used to a new name, then she did too.

“Go into the Wilds?” Daveth asked, “isn’t that dangerous?”

“You weren’t recruited out of charity, all three of you are skilled and resourceful,” Duncan replied, “Alistair is the most junior member of our order and will accompany you as is tradition. Do not worry. I doubt you will need to go far into the Wilds to find what you seek.”

“What do we need Darkspawn blood for?” Ser Jory asked, and she somehow managed to keep the shock and surprise off of her face. Did he really not know? How did he not know? Oh, because he didn’t have the same past life experience as her.

“For the Joining itself,” Duncan replied, “I’ll explain more once you’ve returned.”

“Surely you could have acquired some blood before now,” Ser Jory pointed out.

“Of course. You must work together to collect the components, however,” Duncan replied, “it’s as much a part of the Joining as what comes after.”

She could probably use some practice in learning how to fight with other people. Before, she was one of the few who had any sort of martial prowess in the Alienage, which led to her mostly operating alone. She also didn’t want anyone walking the same path she did. It was dangerous… Though they ended up getting hurt by her actions anyway… She could only pray that they were doing alright, that there wasn’t a Purge, that— It was useless to pray. Especially since she _knew_. She _knew_ her loved ones were being blamed for her actions, her Father probably taking the brunt of it _why didn’t you teach your daughter better?!_ She could practically hear them shouting at him… He didn’t deserve that kind of treatment, neither did Shianni or Soris.

She didn’t even care that these thoughts endlessly poured into her mind. It was probably a good thing, she should never forget what she’s done. The monster that she’d become. The pain and hurt she’d unwittingly unleashed upon her loved ones.

She was too ashamed of herself to even write to her Mother.

“And our second task?” she asked maintaining her service smile and attitude, fully aware she was being judged.

“There was once a Grey Warden archive in the Wilds, abandoned long ago when we could no longer afford to maintain such remote outposts,” Duncan answered, “it has recently come to our attention that some scrolls have been left behind, magically sealed to protect hem. Alistair, I want you to retrieve these scrolls if you can.”

“What kind of scrolls are they?” she asked.

“Old treaties, if you’re curious,” Duncan replied, “promises of support made to the Grey Wardens long ago… They were once considered only formalities. With so many having forgotten their commitments to us, I suspect it may be a good idea to have something to remind them with.”

“And if they’re no longer there?” Ser Jory asked.

“It’s possible the scrolls may have been destroyed or even stolen, though the seal’s magic should have protected them,” Duncan replied, “only a Grey Warden can break such a seal.”

“I don’t understand,” Alistair pointed out, “why leave such things in a ruin if they’re so valuable?”

“It was assumed we would someday return,” Duncan replied, “a great many things were assumed that have not held true.”

“Is this part of our Joining, too?” Daveth asked.

“No, but the effort must be made,” Duncan replied, “I have every confidence you are up to the task.”

“How will we find this archive?” Ser Jory asked.

“It will be an overgrown ruin by now,” Duncan replied, “but the sealed chest should remain intact. Alistair will guide you to the area you need to search.”

“Find the archive, acquire three vials of blood,” she said, “understood.”

“Watch over your charges, Alistair,” Duncan said turning to Alistair as she slipped her vial into one of the pouches strapped to her hip, “return quickly and safely.”

“We will,” Alistair replied.

“Then may the Maker watch over your path,” Duncan nodded, “I will see you when you return.”

For some reason, she was still leading them. Why? She sincerely had absolutely no idea. Wasn’t Ser Jory a knight? Why wasn’t he leading? Alistair too, you’re supposed to be a rank above us. Come on, man, step up! Preferences, she supposed. Ah, well, she’ll just step up for him, for the time being. Honestly though, being in a position of power where she was above Humans was weird and rather unnerving. She half expected to be smot for her insolence. Like _You’re an Elf! Who do you think you are leading Humans around!? Know your place!_ and then bam, lightning strike to the face. 

Alright, let’s get this bullshit over and done with.

“Hail!” the Guard at the gate said, “I’m told you all have business in the Wilds. The gate’s open for you… just be careful out there. Even a Grey Warden won’t be safe in the forest tonight.”

“Thank you for the heads up,” she nodded before leaving the encampment.

She looked around as she did a few light stretches to make sure her joints were loose, and her limbs flexible. They might have to deal with regular forest beasts, likely displaced, angry, and/or afraid because of the Darkspawn.

“Are you sure you’re ready to get into a fight?” Alistair asked her.

“Ah, yeah, you’re right,” she replied before fetching her gloves from her back pocket and slipping them on.

“Didn’t you buy a set of armor earlier?” Daveth asked.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied smoothly, she had no clue how to function in armor, “well then, shall we?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to wear armor?” Ser Jory asked.

“How about, you worry about you,” she replied, “and I’ll worry about me, yeah?”

As she thought, the first thing they faced after entering the Wilds were a pack of wolves. They were likely desperate, and she offered a prayer of apology as she ended them. She focused on herself, and simply trusted the others to focus on themselves. If she survives, she’ll probably have to learn how to fight in a group better, but currently, she was banking on not surviving. She should probably just keep her weapons out for the time being, for now, she just flicked off the excess blood, she’ll clean them properly when she has the chance.

She really wasn’t at her best, she could feel it in her movements, her inner turmoil was definitely affecting the way she moved, her breathing, everything. She could feel it. Her failures kept haunting her at the back of her mind, reminding her of how weak and powerless she was. Constantly whispering about how much of a disappointment and failure she was.

“Hm?” she hummed as she noticed a dead body in Chantry robes. An odd place for one to be, she made her way over and rifled through his pockets trying to figure out what he was doing here, who he was, and if there was something she could tell his family so that they wouldn’t be in that state of limbo wishing he would come home one day. It was also a good time to wash the poopy key, and maybe clean her weapons so that she could sheathe them for now.

“Is that really… necessary?” Ser Jory gawked.

“Mm,” she hummed in affirmative finding a note and reading it, “to give his family and/or friends closure. It’s better knowing your loved one is dead rather than waiting and praying that they’ll return home one day. It’s rough. Wondering where they are, what they’re doing, if they’re okay… This way, if I come across them in our travels I’ll be able to give his family closure. It’s an important step in the process of healing. It’s very, very difficult to come to terms with everything when you’re still hoping they’ll show up again one day.”

“You have a point,” Ser Jory sighed.

After reading through the letter, she noted that it was from Rigby to his son Jogby who should also be somewhere in the Korcari Wilds. She’ll go to the meeting place to see if his son was there so that she could inform him of his Father’s passing. Hopefully, it’ll give his family closure.

Shianni had kept wondering if her Father would one day return from the Dalish to teach her how to be a real Elf. It had taken her a while to come to terms with the fact that he would never be coming back for her, but in the end, Shianni had loved her life in the Alienage. When her Mother died, both she and Shianni had huddled together in their house waiting for her Mother to come back to tell them it was safe. They kept hoping she’d open the door and show up and tell them everything would be alright. The only way they could believe that her Mother had died was by seeing her. It was hard. It was a struggle. They had both gone through it. She understood how hard it was to just sit there and hope they would come back wondering if they were in trouble or not.

“Over here,” a voice called out weakly as they continued along, and they quickly moved towards the voice, “who… is that? Grey…Wardens?”

“Well, he’s not half as dead as he looks, is he?” Alistair replied as she frowned and retrieved bandages and a poultice from her pack.

“My scouting band was attacked by Darkspawn!” the man replied as she crouched down to begin assessing his injury, “they came out of the ground… please, help me! I’ve got to… return to camp.”

“Working on it,” she replied and handed a clean square of cloth to Alistair, “please go wet this.”

“Okay,” Alistair replied and obliged.

“Move your hand please,” she said and the man moved his hand. She cleaned the excess blood so that she could properly inspect the wound, he wouldn’t need stitches, good. She didn’t have the tools for stitches at the moment. She had him remove his armor, applied the poultice and bandaged the wounded area, “that should hold up until we can get you to camp.”

“No… I can get back there myself,” the man replied.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Yes,” the man replied as she helped him stand, “I’ll be fine on my own from here… Thank you.”

“Be safe,” she said as he limped away.

“Did you hear?” Ser Jory said after the man was gone, “an entire patrol of seasoned men killed by Darkspawn!”

“Calm down, Ser Jory,” Alistair replied, “we’ll be fine if we’re careful.”

“Those soldiers were careful, and they were still overwhelmed,” Ser Jory replied, “how many Darkspawn can the four of us slay? A dozen? A hundred? There’s an entire _army_ in these forests!”

“There are Darkspawn about,” Alistair said calmly to reassure him, "but we’re in no danger of walking into the bulk of the horde."

“How do you know?” Ser Jory replied, “I’m not a coward, but this is foolish and reckless. We should go back.”

“Overcoming these dangers is part of our test,” she replied assuringly.

“That’s… true,” Ser Jory sighed.

“Know this: all Grey Wardens can sense Darkspawn,” Alistair replied confirming her suspicions on drinking the blood and then gaining some weird shitty sixth sense, “whatever their cunning, I guarantee they won’t take us by surprise. That’s why I’m here.”

“You see, ser knight?” Daveth said, “we might die, but we’ll be warned about it first.”

“That is…” Ser Jory sighed, “reassuring?”

“That doesn’t mean I’m here to make this easy, however,” Alistair stated. Hm, she’ll give him… a five out of ten for that, “so let’s get a move on.”

They began walking along again, Ser Jory clearly not having a good time. She, on the other hand, didn’t really care, put the thing she needed to kill in front of her, and she’ll do it, she guessed. Forced to do the thing she hated because she demolished the entirety of the Arl of Denerim’s guards, his son, and his son’s friends. A fitting punishment, she supposed… Having to now dedicate her life to fighting.

“So, Ser Jory,” she said as they walked, trying to ease his nerves, “you said you were from Redcliffe?”

“I hail from Redcliffe,” Ser Jory nodded, “but Duncan recruited me in Highever, a city off the northern coast… Have you traveled there?”

She felt her chest tighten, and her pulse speed up.

Highever.

He was from Highever.

“No, I haven’t,” she replied hiding her discomfort.

“I was in Arl Eamon’s retinue when he attended King Maric’s funeral,” Ser Jory replied brightly, “it was in Highever that I met my Helena… I was smitten. She has the most beautiful eyes, my Helena. For years, I found any excuse to return there… We married a year ago. Arl Eamon gave me leave to serve in Highever, but I was attempting to persuade Helena to come to Redcliffe with me. At least until I was recruited.”

“See, you have something to fight for,” she pointed out, “how did the Grey Wardens find you?”

“Last month, Duncan visited Highever, and the bann held a tournament in his honor,” Ser Jory replied, his nerves already easing, good, “I won the grand melee.”

“Oh! Congratulations!” she said clapping her hands.

“Thank you… It was hard to leave my wife,” Ser Jory sighed, “we married only a year ago, and she is heavy with child now. But… Ferelden needs my blade, and I shall not falter.”

“You’re fighting for the future of both your wife and your future child,” she replied, “keep that in your thoughts.”

“I’ll… try,” Ser Jory replied, good, looks like his nerves have settled a bit.

They continued on, and she saw the flower the Kennel Master had requested to save her dog. She picked it and carefully placed it in one of her side pouches, deciding if she saw more she’d pick them as well. Just in case he needed more for other dogs.

“So, Daveth, tell me about yourself,” she said to make light conversation.

“I grew up in a village ‘bout a day’s trip to the east. Little blot you wouldn’t even find on a map, haven’t been back in years. I struck out for the city as soon as I could outrun my pa,” Daveth replied cheerily, “I’ve been in Denerim for, what… six years now? Never liked it much, but there’s more purses there than anywhere else.”

“I’m surprised we hadn’t met… Though perhaps I shouldn’t be, I rarely left the Alienage if I could help it,” she replied in thought, “so you’re a cut-purse?”

“And a pickpocket, thank you very much,” Daveth replied, “or was, anyhow. Who’d ever guess _I’d_ end up a Grey Warden?”

“I didn’t expect to end up as one either… Not the preferred path in life I’d imagined for myself, but what can you do?” she replied, “how did they find you?”

“I found them. I cut Duncan’s purse while he was standing in a crowd,” Daveth replied, “he grabs my wrist, but I squirm out and bolt. The old bugger can run, but the garrison caught me first. I’m a wanted man in Denerim, you see, so they were going to string me up right there.”

“Ah, that’s why we hadn’t met,” she replied, “what happened?”

“Duncan stopped them. Invoked the Right of Conscription,” Daveth replied, ah, another conscriptee. Lucky that his actions didn’t have as much backlash as hers did, “I gave the garrison the finger while I was walking away… Don’t know why Duncan wants someone like me. But he says finesse is important, and that I’m fast with a blade. You bet your boots I am… Besides, it beats getting strung up… What about you?”

“Darkspawn,” Alistair said interrupting their conversation, and giving her an excuse to not answer that question.

She trusted her body and flowed around the battlefield, putting Darkspawn between her and their archers, and getting them to shoot their own allies. Circle-walking, evading, quickly maneuvering behind them moving to a place they couldn’t hit her. Using her momentum to build up power and flow from one strike to the next… Yep, these boots were definitely hindering her, and she was definitely not at the top of her game, her inner turmoil and lack of inner peace is really cramping her style. She’ll seriously have to consider getting shoes that are easier for her to move around in if she were to keep up this lifestyle. What a pain. She’ll also have to find herself again, something she doubted she could do. Her shame, her guilt, her self-hatred were already clawing at her chest and neck… Well, it probably wouldn’t matter soon.

“So this is what a Darkspawn looks like, huh?” she said crouching down to poke one of their faces, her arms looked similar to their faces, “looks like a burn victim, makes me feel a little bad.”

“You feel _bad!?_ ” Ser Jory gawked as she picked up its hand, made a slice down its index finger and filled her vial before holding her hand out for the others to hand theirs over.

“It’s generally bad form to mistreat the injured, not that I’ll spare any of them, of course,” she replied filling their vials before moving to wash off the excess blood on the vials and clean her weapons so that she could resheathe them. She handed them their vials back and sighed, “well, let’s get a move on. We’ve got documents to find. Or something.”

It was interesting that their blood was really black, it flowed like regular blood. Different creatures have different blood colors, that was something that happened quite often in her past life. It was because their blood was made up of different chemical compounds. She wondered what compounds made their blood black… Then again, this world had magic and shit, she really couldn’t expect it to function the same as her old world… Especially since Fade/Ether shit played a part in all of this.

“Look there,” Alistair pointed out to the three bodies hanging from the trees. Wonderful. Now Ser Jory’s nerves are going to start up again. Zero out of ten points, “poor slobs… That just seems… excessive.”

“Perhaps,” she shrugged, “but they put them there to send a message. In which case, it’s not really.”

“Careful,” Alistair called out, “I’m sensing Darkspawn nearby. Best be on your guard.”

They should always be on their guard in this sort of place. She continued to dance around battlefields, unafraid of using her enemies to block arrows before she dropped them and swiftly moved in for the kill before they had time to finish reloading. She made sure that her lungs were completely empty before taking another breath, making sure she got the best use out of her breathing. In her old life, her Grandfather had told her that you should always empty out your lungs before taking another breath, if you held too much air in your lungs, you get tired faster… Granted he taught her that while they were distance swimming along one of the reefs, but the logic still applied to basically everything. Getting your breathing down was one of the first steps for martial arts or regular exercise in general.

She noticed the pillars referenced in the note and moved along the path. They dispatched the wolves, no body. Jogby wasn’t here. There was another note in the chest, Rigby knew he might die soon. Poor sod. Hopefully, his son was still alive somewhere. With that thought in mind, she decided to explore the area in order to find this guy's son. He deserved to know his Father didn’t make it.

Alistair kept calling out when he sensed Darkspawn, she wondered what that felt like. Was it some weird feeling? Something you could sort through? It sounded weird, and she didn’t like the thought of it. Ah, well, whatever, it’ll probably kill her anyway.

Wow, there’re a lot of wolves in this area… Interesting. Usually, they have separate territories, and packs respect their bounds. The ecosystem must really be fucked up for so many packs to have been displaced by the Darkspawn. Poor things. They’re even fighting the Darkspawn for their territory. Which was a weird sight. Darkspawn fighting wolves… Sounded like some sort of weird B-rated movie. They wiped up the remaining fighters when she noticed another body in Chantry robes… It’s Jogby, poor sod. They should probably get this lock-box and send it to Redcliffe for Jetta. The poor woman.

“Oh, that’s cute,” she said, dodging around the battlefield while both disarming the traps and landing critical strikes. It helped that they more or less had the same anatomical structure as Humans, and Dwarves, “they’ve laid traps for us.”

“How is that cute?!” Ser Jory shouted after the fighting was over. 

She noticed a soldier's body, rifled through it and found a note about myths and legends. Sounded interesting. She should check it out after she finished her experiment.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said as she rearmed a trap and picked it up.

“What… Why are you carrying that?” Alistair asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” she repeated.

She launched the trap at the next Darkspawn she’d come across, as if she were throwing a pie at someone's face, and then promptly cringed. Gruesome. Never doing that again. Well, now she knew that that was a thing. A gross thing, but still a thing. She picked up its body as an archer took aim at her and released an arrow. The body caught it, as planned, and she tossed it aside as she moved in for the kill.

“Well, not doing that again,” she sighed after the fight, “they’re kind of heavy, anyway.”

“You’ve been picking up and tossing away bodies this entire time,” Daveth said, “how are you not tired yet?”

“I don’t mind physical labor,” she shrugged, “so I guess I'm pretty strong.”

***

Both Daveth and Ser Jory’s skills paled in comparison to Kallian’s. He could certainly see why Duncan had spoken highly of her. If he were to sum up the way she fought in one word it would be that she flowed. It was like watching water unleash a torrent of death upon their enemies. She was clearly experienced in fighting, though, thinking back to it, she also seemed rather experienced at patching people up, and soothing frayed nerves. She was highly agile and flexible, and her strength certainly wasn’t anything to scoff at. The way she carried her weapons, however, was still odd to him. Most people strapped them to the top of their backs, but hers were down by her hips, though, it clearly worked well for her. It was also jarring how she wore no armor, and simply danced around the battlefield in her simple tunic, and trousers. It also clearly worked well for her, but it did make him curious as to why she didn’t wear armor. Maybe he’ll ask her about it later.

Though, to be honest, he could have done without seeing her launch a trap at a Darkspawn’s face, and from the looks of it, she could have too.

He could have also done without her summoning a demon simply because she was curious.

“There,” he pointed, “those are the ruins.”

“The one surrounded by Darkspawn?” Kallian quirked a brow, “it seems like they’ve been waiting for us.”

“How are you so calm?!” Ser Jory furrowed his brows.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine,” Kallian replied, “relax, fight with a calm mind and steady heart.”

“See, Ser Knight?” Daveth said, “both of our most experienced fighters are calm, so maybe you should calm down too?”

***

She’d been watching the group of four for a while, from the moment they entered her Wilds, in fact. They were being led by an Elven woman with scarlet hair, a hair color she’d never seen before in her entire life. This woman clearly out-classed her companions in terms of skill, and ’twas interesting to watch her flow through battles, dodging, evading, and using her enemies as shields. Her strikes were accurate, swift, and always deadly.

They’d gotten their blood, so why were they still here, in her Wilds, she wondered. ‘Twas most strange, what was their purpose? What were they seeking? 

Perhaps she’ll get a chance to ask them soon.

***

“All of that and the chest is destroyed!” Ser Jory shouted indignantly, “I told you we should have gone back!”

“We couldn’t have known it would be destroyed,” Alistair sighed, “we had to try.”

“It’s true,” she agreed, “in any case, at least this was a good experience.”

“Well, well, what have we here?” a voice called out as she was prodding the destroyed chest with her foot, she was getting some strong Maleficent vibes from that statement, “a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned? Or merely an intruder, come into these Darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey? What say you, hmm? Scavenger or intruder?”

“Hmm… Are those my only options?” she hummed taping her chin in thought as the woman began walking down the ramp, “we’re simply here because the Grey Wardens once owned this tower.”

“‘Tis a tower no longer, the Wilds have obviously claimed this desiccated corpse,” the Woman replied walking past them, “I have watched your progress for some time. ‘Where do they go,’ I wondered, ‘why are they here?’ and now, you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?”

“Don’t answer her,” Alistair mumbled, “she looks Chasind, and that means others may be nearby.”

“Whoa,” she frowned, “rude, much?”

“You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?” the Woman replied.

“Yes, swooping is bad,” Alistair replied.

“She’s a Witch of the Wilds, she is!” Daveth said as she began to realize how tired she was, she could use a nap, “she’ll turn us into toads.”

“Witch of the Wilds? Such idle fancies, those legends, have you no minds of your own?” the Woman replied before turning to her, “you there. Women do not frighten like little boys. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine.”

“My name is Kallian Tabris,” she said with a polite bow, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Now that is a proper civil greeting, even here in the Wilds, you may call me Morrigan,” Morrigan replied finally introducing herself, “shall I guess your purpose? You sought something in that chest, something that is here no longer?”

“‘Here no longer?’ You stole them, didn’t you?” Alistair accused, “you’re… some kind of… sneaky… witch-thief.”

“How very eloquent,” both women said in unison as she facepalmed with a sigh.

“How does one steal from dead men?” Morrigan asked.

“Quite easily, it seems,” Alistair replied she decided to keep it to herself that she’d been rifling through the corpses of their enemies wondering if there was something she could sell, “those documents are Grey Warden property, and I suggest you return them.”

“I will not, for ‘twas not I who removed them,” Morrigan replied, “invoke a name that means nothing here any longer if you wish; I am not threatened.”

“Then who removed them?” she asked, deciding to keep it to herself that she noticed the slight waver in her voice when she had said the word ‘invoke’.

“‘Twas my Mother, in fact,” Morrigan answered.

“Can you take us to her?” she requested.

“There is a sensible request,” Morrigan replied with a small chuckle, “I like you.”

“I’d be careful. First, it’s ‘I like you…’” Alistair warned causing her to sigh deeply, “but then ‘Zap!’ frog time.”

“She’ll put us all in the pot, she will,” Daveth said, “just you watch.”

“If the pot’s warmer than this forest,” Ser Jory replied, “it’ll be a nice change.”

“Please forgive my companions,” she beamed, “as they seem to have forgotten social graces.”

“Follow me, then,” Morrigan replied, deciding to ignore her companions, “if it pleases you.”

She followed Morrigan without hesitation, if it came to a fight, well, she knew how to fight. Either way, they needed those documents, and she was their most promising lead to retrieving them. She could really, really use a nap, granted she probably won’t wake up tomorrow, one doesn’t wake up from death… She’ll have to save her doggo first.

“Greetings, Mother,” Morrigan said as they neared a hut, and her instincts told her that this woman was dangerous, “I bring before you four Grey Wardens who—”

“I see them, girl,” the Old Woman replied, “mmm… Much as I expected.”

“Are we supposed to believe you were expecting us?” Alistair asked.

“You are required to do nothing, least of all believe,” the Old Woman replied, “shut one’s eyes tight, or open one’s arms wide… either way, one’s a fool!”

“She’s a witch, I tell you!” Daveth said and her hand found its way back to her forehead, “we shouldn’t be talking to her!”

“Quiet, Daveth!” Ser Jory replied, “if she’s really a witch, do you want to make her mad?”

“There is a smart lad. Sadly irrelevant to the larger scheme of things, but it is not I who decides. Believe what you will,” the Old Woman replied before turning to her, and her next words made her eyes briefly widen in shock, “and what of you, Traveler? Does your traveling mind give you a different viewpoint? What do you believe?”

“That you are much like anything else, in that you are clearly not what you seem,” she replied, this woman knew. She knew that she retained memories from her past life, and that her past life was in a different world. She wasn’t sure how this woman knew, but she knew she did, “therefore, I’m not sure what to believe.”

“A statement that possesses more wisdom than it implies,” the Old Woman replied, “be always aware… or is it oblivious? I can never remember.”

“Mmm some variation of ‘know nothing, and question everything’?” she offered.

“Oh, you I like,” the Old Woman laughed, “so much about you is uncertain… and yet I believe. Do I? Why it seems I do!”

“Much obliged,” she replied inclining her head slightly.

“So… This is a dreaded Witch of the Wilds?” Alistair asked.

“Witch of the Wilds, eh? Morrigan must have told you that. She fancies such tales, though she would never admit it!” the Old Woman laughed again while Morrigan’s hand went to her face, “oh, how she dances under the moon!”

“They did not come to listen to your wild tales, Mother,” Morrigan sighed.

“True, they came for their treaties, yes?” the Old Woman replied, moving to retrieve the documents, “and before you begin barking, your precious seal wore off long ago. I have protected these.”

“You— Oh,” Alistair replied barely saving himself from shoving his foot into his mouth, “you protected them?”

“And why not? Take them to your Grey Wardens,” the Old Woman replied as she handed the documents to her, “and tell them this Blight’s threat is greater than they realize!”

“What do you mean the threat is greater than they realize?” she couldn’t help herself from asking.

“Either the threat is more or they realize less,” the Old Woman laughed, “or perhaps the threat is nothing! Or perhaps they realize nothing!”

“Ah, I see,” she replied in understanding. She’ll have to remember this for later, if she understood her correctly: there was something else going on with this Blight. Granted who knows if she’ll actually survive or not, “and thank you for returning the treaties.”

“Such manners!” the Old Woman replied, “always in the last place you look. Like stockings! Oh, do not mind me. You have what you came for!”

“Time for you to go, then,” Morrigan said clearly trying to get rid of them, something she didn’t mind, she needed a nap.

“Do not be ridiculous, girl,” the Old Woman replied, “these are your guests.”

“Oh, very well,” Morrigan sighed, “I will show you out of the woods. Follow me.”

***

She was in thought after parting with the four Wardens, Kallian, of course, making sure to thank her for showing them the way out of the forest.

That Elven woman, Kallian, truly was strange.

She was polite, but the fact that she seemed to get along with her Mother ‘twas very odd. She did not know what her Mother had meant when she’d addressed her as ‘Traveler’, and her Mother certainly wouldn’t say. But she could tell, she could tell that Kallian genuinely understood her Mother’s words. Something that had been incredibly surprising, even she hadn’t understood her Mother’s words. A strange woman in more ways than one.

Well, it did not matter, she had nothing to do with either her or her companions. She would most likely not be seeing any of them again.

***

She walked over to the Kennel Master, after assuring her companions that she’d meet them at Duncan.

She had a dog to save.

“Ah, there you are,” the Kennel Master sighed, “the Mabari is stable for now, but not improving… Unless I get that herb I told you about, there’s not much hope.”

“Here, is this it?” she asked retrieving the flowers from her pouch.

“Let me see… yes, that’s exactly it, wonderful!” the Kennel Master sighed in relief.

“I picked a few, just in case,” she said as she handed them over.

“Give me a moment and I’ll make this into an ointment,” the Kennel Master replied before quickly moving to make the ointment and giving it to her future Mabari, “she looks better already. I’m sure she’d thank you herself if she could.”

“How long until there’s an improvement?” she asked.

“A day, maybe two,” the Kennel Master replied, “there’s enough ointment for her to make a full recovery. Why not come back after the battle? Perhaps we can see about imprinting her on you… Though it seemed like she’d already imprinted herself onto you.”

“I just hope she gets better soon,” she replied.

“Come back after the battle,” the Kennel Master said, “we’ll see how she’s doing.”

“Alright,” she nodded with a smile.

She guessed she should report back in with Duncan now, the other’s were likely there already. As she meandered her way over, her thoughts wandered back to the Old Woman in the Wilds. She’d known, and that was a rather odd thing. That woman was not normal, in any sort of way. What did she call her? ‘Traveler’? Interesting, likely because she’d traveled from one world to another. A very strange turn of events. And this Blight’s threat was greater than they realized? Was there something more behind this? Ah, well, didn’t matter, she’d probably die soon, after ingesting a gross blood mixture.

She noticed that the Tranquil that had guarded the mage chest was gone, so snuck over to it and opened it with the clean key, and pocketed its contents. She was a rogue, stealth was her thing… Actually, it honestly seemed like an inborn trait, she had to consciously make noise, otherwise, she’d freak people out when she announced her presence, and unless it was for pranks, she didn’t want to surprise people like that. They might attack her, and she wasn’t really into that thought. A wonderful skill to have in battle, though. A thought that made her frown. She’s really suffering from that inner turmoil. Her movements were not nearly as fluid as she’d known they could be. Other’s may not be able to tell, but they didn’t matter. What mattered was that she could tell.

She wondered how her family was doing… But then wondered if she had any right to be concerned about them anymore. She’d destroyed her own place in the Alienage… So, perhaps she didn’t have any right to be concerned… It was a heartbreaking thought, and she felt another piece of herself shatter. No amount of apologies would ever fix what she’d done to them.

“So you return from the Wilds,” Duncan said as she approached, “have you been successful?”

“Indeed we have,” she replied as they handed over their blood vials, and the documents.

“Good, I’ve had the Circle mages preparing,” Duncan replied, “with the blood you’ve retrieved, we can begin the Joining immediately.”

Ah, yes, there was a special method of preparation for it. Figures.

“And if we have second thoughts?” Ser Jory asked.

“Let me be very clear on that point, you are not volunteers. Whether you were conscripted or recruited, you were chosen because you are needed,” Duncan replied, “there is no turning back now. You must gather your courage for what comes next.”

“Courage?” Daveth replied as she stifled a yawn, she was really tired, “how much danger are we in?”

“I will not lie; we Grey Wardens pay a heavy price to become what we are,” Duncan replied, “fate may decree that you pay your price now rather than later.”

“Are you… Are you saying that this ritual can kill us?” Ser Jory asked.

“As could any Darkspawn you might face in battle,” Duncan replied, “you would have not been chosen, however, if I did not think you had a chance to survive.”

“Let’s go, then,” Daveth replied, “I’m anxious to see this Joining now.”

“I agree,” Ser Jory nodded, “let’s have it done.”

“I just want a nap,” she yawned, “so let’s get this over and done with so I can take one.”

“Then let us begin,” Duncan replied turning to Alistair, “Alistair, take them to the old temple.”

They followed Alistair, and she was so sleepy she could barely stop yawning. It didn’t strike her as odd that she was tired: she’d been traveling and fighting all day, and not only that, but there was also the fact that she’d experienced so much weird today. Such as: Being in a position of power, and leading around three Human men, with no intentions of getting them killed in the back alleys of Denerim.

“The more I hear about this Joining,” Ser Jory said, “the less I like it.”

“Are you blubbering again?” Daveth frowned, clearly fed up with Ser Jory.

“Why all these damn tests?” Ser Jory replied, “have I not earned my place?”

“Maybe it’s tradition,” Daveth replied, “maybe they’re just trying to annoy you.”

“Calm down,” she said reassuringly, “there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

“I only know that my wife is in Highever with a child on the way,” Ser Jory sighed, “if they had warned me… it just doesn’t seem fair.”

“Life isn’t fair,” she pointed out.

“Would you have come if they’d warned you?” Daveth replied, “maybe that’s why they don’t. The Wardens do what they must, right?”

That phrase again: _The Wardens do what they must_. It still rubbed her the wrong way.

“Including sacrificing us?” Ser Jory replied, “and how are you so calm, Kallian?”

“Because I know what’s going to happen,” she replied with a yawn.

“What?! You know!?” Ser Jory glared before looking at Alistair accusingly, “who told you!?”

“No one, I figured it out,” she replied as Alistair held up his hands and shook his head wildly, “there were a lot of clues. The fact that you didn’t figure it out is, quite honestly, a shock to me.”

“Tell us!” Ser Jory demanded.

“I’ll let it be a surprise,” she replied waving a sleeve around dismissively.

“It doesn’t matter,” Daveth said, in an interesting turn of events, the career criminal is more self-sacrificing and courageous than the knight, “I’d sacrifice a lot more if I knew it would end the Blight.”

“Point, he has one,” she said.

“You saw those Darkspawn, Ser Knight,” Daveth replied, “wouldn’t you die to protect your pretty wife from them?”

“I…” Ser Jory sighed.

“Maybe you’ll die. Maybe we’ll all die,” Daveth replied, “if nobody stops the Darkspawn, we’ll all die for sure.”

“I’ve just never faced a foe I could not engage with my blade,” Ser Jory grumbled.

“I have,” she replied raising a hand. It’s true, she had. The foes that were hunger, poverty, fire, death, fear, guilt… the list goes on, really. They were all things she couldn’t raise a sword against, but she faced them down anyway. Not all problems need to be solved with violence.

“At last, we come to the Joining, the Grey Wardens were founded during the First Blight when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation,” Duncan said walking forward with a goblet, “so it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of Darkspawn blood and mastered their Taint.”

“We’re… going to drink the blood of those… those creatures?” Ser Jory replied in shock, before turning to her angrily, “and you knew!?”

“As I’ve said, there were a lot of hints,” she shrugged, “I could list them, but it’d be a waste of time.”

“As the first Grey Wardens did before us, as we did before you,” Duncan said interrupting them, “ _this_ is the source of our power and our victory.”

“Those who survive the Joining become immune to the Taint,” Alistair added, and she wondered about that, “we can sense it in the Darkspawn and use it to slay the Archdemon.”

“Those who survive!?” Ser Jory replied indignantly.

“Not all who drink the blood will survive, and those who do are forever changed, this is why the Joining is a secret. It is the price we pay,” Duncan explained. Great, she’ll be a different person than the one she once was both figuratively, and literally. What an accomplishment, “we speak only a few words prior to the Joining, but these words have been said since the first… Alistair, if you would?”

“Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn,” Alistair said solemnly, and she wanted to mentally check-out of this situation, but somehow resisted the urge, “and should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten and that one day we shall join you.”

“Daveth, step forward,” Duncan said passing him the goblet.

She was impressed, Daveth didn’t even hesitate to drink from it before passing it back to Duncan who backed away, and watched. She watched as well, Daveth doubled over in pain, letting out a cry as his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed clutching at his throat.

“Maker’s breath,” Ser Jory said backing away from them, he wasn’t a rogue, so she didn’t know what he was trying to do. She could probably dip, but she had no reason to. She had no home to go back to. No family to return to.

“I’m sorry, Daveth,” Duncan apologized as Daveth gave in to the pain, before turning to Ser Jory, who was still backing away, “step forward, Jory.”

“But… I have a wife,” Ser Jory said weakly and she frowned, didn’t she talk to him about this? To think of his wife? To remember who he was fighting for? “a child! Had I known…”

“There is no turning back,” Duncan replied grimly.

“No! You ask too much!” Ser Jory said unsheathing his sword, and Duncan put the goblet down and unsheathed his own weapon, “there is no glory in this!”

She watched Ser Jory try to attack, but was parried twice before Duncan landed a fatal strike… She couldn’t keep herself from sighing. If he had complied, there was a chance he could have survived, but by not complying, he’d sealed his own fate. If she survives, she’ll make sure to send a message to his wife, Helena, to inform her of his passing… She’ll make up a nicer story that didn’t involve him being a coward about the ordeal… Like he died in the upcoming battle… Yeah, that sounded heroic.

“I am sorry, but the Joining is not yet complete,” Duncan said as Ser Jory died before turning to her and handing her the goblet, “you are called upon to submit yourself to the Taint for the greater good.”

Not being asked to step forward, hm? She sees how it is. She sighed as she drank, taking a quick gulp in an effort to keep it off her tongue. It didn’t work. The taste and texture were horrifying. She handed the goblet back to Duncan, who backed away from her as he had with Daveth.

“From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden,” she heard Duncan say as she pressed a hand to her head.

There was a sharp stinging pain in her skull as she saw images of a large dragon that had definitely seen better days flash through her mind’s eye. And when she opened her actual eyes, she found out that one: she was now laying on the ground. And two: seeing Duncan’s face as the first thing she saw upon waking up, pissed her off.

“It is finished. Welcome,” Duncan said as Alistair offered her a hand to help her up, she took it.

“Two more deaths,” Alistair said sadly as he pulled her up, “in my Joining, only one of us died, but it was… horrible. I’m glad at least one of you made it through.”

“How do you feel?” Duncan asked.

“I’m fine,” she replied.

“Did you have dreams?” Alistair asked, “I had terrible dreams after my Joining.”

“Guessing the giant dragon that’s seen better days is the Archdemon?” she asked tapping the side of her head with the heel of her hand.

“Indeed, such dreams come when you begin to sense the Darkspawn, as we all do,” Duncan explained, “that and many other things can be explained in the months to come.”

“Before I forget, there is one last part to your Joining,” Alistair said passing her a pendant, “we take some of that blood and put it in a pendant. Something to remind us… of those who didn’t make it this far.”

“Take some time, and get some rest, if you can,” Duncan said, “tomorrow the King wants you to attend a strategy meeting for the upcoming battle. I am not sure why he has requested your presence, but I’ll send Alistair to come find you when the time comes.”

“Understood,” she nodded, “I’m going to go find somewhere to sleep…”

There were a lot of trees around here, she should borrow one for a nap, and with that thought in mind, she trotted off to find a suitable tree to sleep in.


	10. How the Cat Definitely Lost Another Life

She and Soris had been trying to keep up Kallian’s weekly tradition of star-gazing, but neither of them knew the back alleys like she did, and neither of them were quite as athletic as she was. Instead, they just crawled onto the top of the highest roof of the Alienage that they could get up too.

It wasn’t the same.

Kallian had brought so much banter and life to their weekly expeditions, it was lonely without it. They couldn’t think of anything to say, anything to banter about. It was difficult, and part of them didn’t even see the point of going. Before it had been a fun bonding moment for all three cousin’s but now, it just reminded them that Kallian wasn’t here anymore.

“So, how’s your marriage going?” she finally asked.

“It’s… alright,” Soris sighed, “she doesn’t cook nearly as well as Kalli.”

“Does anyone?”

“Good point, how are you holding up?”

“…Alright,” she sighed, “could be better… I think people are starting to suspect something.”

“I saw you opening the lid of a crate.”

“I keep expecting her to be in one of them.”

“I’ve been opening them too.”

“We should probably start heading home,” she sighed and they both stood up, dusted themselves off and went home with heavy hearts.

***

_She could feel the heat of the fire on her skin._

_Fire flickered in her peripheral vision, but the woman she was facing off against wasn’t bothered in the slightest._

_Even before the Joining she didn’t stand a chance against her, but right now? Right now it was just embarrassing. Not only did the woman know her exact fighting style, and everything she ever thought, but she also held absolutely nothing back._

_But she, herself, had lost touch with parts of herself._

_The woman was staring down at her, weapon pointed at her neck._

_“You should be ashamed of yourself, and how weak you are,” the Woman said._

_“Don’t worry, I already am.”_

Well, at least the woman was only in her dreams. If she had to deal with hallucinations of her in her everyday life, that would be the absolute worst… 

With a sigh she put her hair back up into that complicated braided bun on the top left side of her head, she slipped a vial inside of it, two needles to help keep it secure, and her ribbon. She’d kept it in this style since it was the same as the day she’d left the Alienage, it reminded her of better days. She moved on to begin running through her usual morning stretches to loosen up her joints and wake up her body. 

She sighed and blankly stared out from her perch in the tree she was occupying, she’ll probably die in today’s battle, doesn’t matter if she re-finds herself before getting there. She still had absolutely no idea how to fight either against or with a large group of people, it was a little daunting to think of. And by a little, she meant really. It was really daunting. The most likely outcome would be that she’d accidentally end up killing an ally. Joining the military just wasn’t something she was interested in, in her past life. It wasn’t in this life either, really. 

She was pretty bummed that this was what her life ended up being.

“Kallian!” she heard a voice call out, entering the area she was currently in, sounded like Alistair, “Kallian!”

Sighing, she stood up, grabbed hold of her pack and stepped off from her perch landing right behind him.

“Kallian!” Alistair called out again.

“Good morning,” she asked, noting him jump in alarm, “I take it, it’s time?”

“Where did you come from?” Alistair said trying to calm himself down.

“Is there anywhere, where I can wash my face?” she asked while pointing up to the branch she had slept on.

“Uhh…” Alistair replied pointing, “that direction.”

“How much time do I have?”

“About two hours,” Alistair replied, “is what Duncan said, anyway.”

“Thanks,” she said before trotting off in that direction.

***

Well, he was certainly glad he found her fairly quickly. He didn’t really enjoy yelling at trees like a madman. There were some guards that had started giving him suspicious stares, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to explain himself if it turned out she wasn’t there. Part of him had, after all, considered that the Elven servants he’d asked had pointed him in this direction to play a trick on him.

How she’d managed to land behind him so quietly was anyone's guess, it nearly scared him out of his skin. He also wondered if she’d really slept last night, and if so, how. She’d not only survived the Joining but also saw Daveth and Ser Jory die right in front of her. Granted, it was probably for the best, given that a major battle would be happening soon. He should get on with his own preparations since he’d be battling alongside Duncan and the other Grey Wardens.

Though he wasn’t really sure how to go about preparing for a large battle… 

He’ll just copy what the others are doing.

***

Battle would be in the air in her Wilds today. She could feel it in the way the animals moved, and the way the Darkspawn had begun moving. Her mind wandered to the group of Grey Wardens who’d trespassed into the Wilds yesterday, wondering what became of them. Well, ‘twas no matter, they would likely perish in today’s battle… Though her Mother was making preparations, for what purpose? She did not know, and she knew better than to question her Mother.

All she’d be left with, would be a piercing headache.

***

She should probably wear that armor she purchased yesterday since she’d be meeting with the King in a serious manner. Why he wanted her to attend a strategy meeting was anyone's guess. In this life, she had absolutely zero strategical background, and in her past life? Her only experience lay in tactical games. Perhaps there was some other reason he wanted her to attend, a special task? Ugh, this whole special treatment and position of power thing were terrible. It was weird, and she really, really, really, didn’t like it. She was an Elven commoner. Elves who stood out got raped, beaten, or murdered. It was a thing she had to keep in mind in her day-to-day life, but here she was. Her instincts were practically screaming that she was about to get executed.

She rinsed out her mouth after brushing her teeth, she likely wouldn’t have time to brush them after eating something. She pulled on her armor, and as she’d expected: it added too much rigidity to her body, weighed her down, and reduced her overall flexibility. Her range of movement was being hampered terribly. With a sigh, she grabbed a piece of bread and began walking towards the designated area. Everyone in the encampment was gearing up for battle, girding themselves for the coming conflict. She could see people praying, people asking for blessings from the Chantry. She could see battle-hardened veterans sharpening their weapons and doing their last checks on their gear, newly recruited soldiers skipping out on food from nerves…

Things were about to get hellish.

She recalled all the people who had told her that she was lucky to be riding out with the King, did they not see this same scene? Only fools would look forward to taking part in the hellscape to come. She could see them too, young folk clearly looking excited and eager to take part, she wondered if they truly understood the gravity of their situation.

Ah, well, dying wasn’t a such a bad idea for her, and so she happily munched on her breakfast, popping the last piece of bread into her mouth as she reached the table. A servant came up shortly after she’d arrived and laid a map of Ostagar out on the table. Not knowing her purpose for being here, she decided to study it. Hm? The Tower of Ishal… Didn’t the guard stationed there yesterday tell her that they had found lower chambers? Darkspawn come from the ground…

“You look troubled,” Duncan pointed out.

“The Tower of Ishal,” she replied, “they discovered lower chambers there…”

“Loghain, my decision is final,” she heard Cailan say as both he and the Teyrn approached interrupting her she immediately straightened up, “I will stand by the Grey Wardens in this assault.”

“You risk too much, Cailan!” Loghain replied, “the Darkspawn horde is too dangerous for you to be playing hero on the front lines.”

“If that’s the case,” Cailan replied, “perhaps we should wait for the Orlesian forces to join us, after all.”

“I must repeat my protest to your fool notion that we need the Orlesians to defend ourselves!” Loghain replied angrily.

“It’s not a ‘fool notion’. Our arguments with the Orlesians are a thing of the past,” Cailan replied, “and you will remember who is king.”

She wondered if those were a wise choice in words. From what she’d heard around the encampment: Loghain was a veteran who fought against the Orlesian occupation, and so she could certainly see why he was cautious about receiving aid from Orlais. But Cailan’s statement: _You will remember who is king_. She wondered if that saying that was wise, they would be fighting what she guessed would be a horrific battle later today, and he was picking a fight with his general. Ah, well, nothing she could do about it. You can’t change the past, and once words are put out into the world like that, you cannot take them back.

“How fortunate Maric did not live to see his son,” Loghain sighed angrily, they’ve clearly been arguing about this for days, “ready to hand Ferelden over to those who enslaved us for a century!”

“Then our current forces will have to suffice, won’t they?” Cailan replied turning to Duncan, “Duncan, are your men ready for battle?”

“They are, Your Majesty,” Duncan nodded.

“And this is the recruit I met earlier on the road?” Cailan said turning to her, “good afternoon, Kallian, I understand congratulations are in order.”

“Good afternoon, Your Majesty, Your Lordship,” she inclined her head politely, “and you are too kind, Your Majesty.”

“Every Grey Warden is needed now,” Cailan replied with a grin, “you should be honored to join their ranks.”

“Your fascination with glory and legends will be your undoing, Cailan,” Loghain frowned, “we must attend to reality.”

She wasn’t sure of the vibes she was getting from that statement, they seemed… Foreshadowing… Especially given that statement from earlier. But it wasn’t her place to question authority. She was merely a commoner, ignorant to the lives and inner workings of the ruling class. Peasants don’t worry about governing over people, don’t worry about setting laws and all that jazz, she hasn’t considered taking a part in politics since she’d literally died. There was no voting here, there was a monarchy, an actual monarchy. 

“Fine, speak your strategy,” Cailan said looking over the map, “the Grey Wardens and I draw the Darkspawn into charging our lines and then…?”

“You will alert the Tower to light the beacon,” Loghain added, “signaling my men to charge from cover—”

“To flank the Darkspawn, I remember,” Cailan replied, “this is the Tower of Ishal in the ruins, yes? Who shall light this beacon?”

“I have a few men stationed there,” Loghain said, “it’s not a dangerous task, but it _is_ vital.”

“Then we should send our best,” Cailan replied, “Kallian, I want you and Alistair to go and make sure it’s done.”

Ah, this is why she was brought here. He was sending her to the Tower, fair enough, it was a decision she could agree with.

“We’ll do our best, Your Majesty,” she nodded.

“You rely on these Grey Wardens too much,” Loghain asked, “is that truly wise?”

“Enough of your conspiracy theories, Loghain,” Cailan sighed, “Grey Wardens battle the Blight, no matter where they’re from.”

Loghain clearly didn’t think highly of Cailan, didn’t think of him as anything more than a child… But she had a feeling Cailan knew this and was using it to his advantage, she didn’t know in what way, though. In her past-life, she’d routinely play the innocent idiot card so that she could get a better read on people. See how they acted and reacted to her antics, and get a feel of their inner workings. It helped her navigate social interactions, figuring out who were really assholes and who weren’t actually assholes, among other things. It was very handy, and thinking back on their interaction yesterday… Yes, he could have been testing her and getting a feel for her personality… She’d been so done with everything she hadn’t really given it any thought. Hmm, if that were the case, then he definitely knew more than he was letting on.

Not that it concerned her, anyway, she was still a peasant who would probably die later today.

“Your Majesty,” Duncan said, “you should consider the possibility of the Archdemon appearing.”

“There have been no signs of any dragons in the Wilds,” Loghain replied.

“Isn’t that what your men are here for, Duncan?” Cailan replied.

“I… yes, Your Majesty,” Duncan replied, it seemed as though he didn’t know how to deal with Cailan.

“Your Majesty,” a Mage said, “the Tower and its beacon are unnecessary. The Circle of Magi—”

“We will not trust any lives to your spells, mage!” the Revered Mother glowered, making her wonder why even bring the mages here if they were going to treat them like this, “save them for the Darkspawn!”

“If I may,” she said raising a hand, “I have nothing against the mages, but I actually think having soldiers stationed at the Tower is a better option anyway, strategically speaking.”

“Oh? And why would that be?” Loghain asked looking at her with mild interest, he was a general, of course, he’d want to hear her thoughts.

“When I’d arrived at Ostagar yesterday, I had spoken with the guard standing outside the Tower of Ishal,” she explained pressing her finger to the Tower on the map, “he had mentioned that the Tower was off-limits since your men had discovered lower chambers, and were securing the tower, correct?”

“Yes, and what about it?” Loghain asked.

“The guard had mentioned that when he was in the Tower earlier, he hadn’t seen any lower chambers, and from my understanding: Darkspawn come up from the ground. It’s highly plausible that they opened up the lower chambers, and then left the area,” she drew lines across the map with her finger from the Tower to the rest of the encampment as she continued, “they would then lure us into a false sense of security, with the intention of taking control of the Tower when the battle began to launch a surprise attack from behind, after which, they’ll be able to take control of the rest of the encampment and close in on the rest of our forces.”

She wondered if she should prepare herself for a swift beheading for her insolence. Or even a lightning strike to the face. _Insolent Elf! How dare you try to speak strategy!_ or something… Was this weird position of power and special treatment thing getting to her head? She hoped not, though it would also be wise for them to be aware of the possibilities anyway since this was a battle for Ferelden.

If she were to suffer a lightning strike to the face, she just hoped it’d kill her in one strike. Surviving electrocution like that was kind of… Yelch.

“I see,” Loghain replied, “you bring up a very good point. This plan will suffice then: the Grey Wardens will light the beacon.”

“Thank you, Loghain, and you, Kallian,” Cailan replied and she noticed Loghain turn his back to them taking a few steps, “I cannot wait for that glorious moment! The Grey Wardens battle beside the King of Ferelden to stem the tide of evil!”

“Yes, Cailan,” Loghain said and that foreboding feeling came back, “a glorious moment for us all.”

“Well, then Your Majesty, Your Lordship,” Duncan said, "I would like to see to both Kallian and Alistair’s preparations."

“Of course,” Cailan nodded and they both bowed politely before leaving, "Duncan, Kallian, you are both dismissed."

“May the Maker watch over you,” she nodded politely.

“You as well, Kallian,” Cailan replied brightly.

Her thoughts went back to Cailan, he’d mentioned that he didn’t think that this was a true Blight, but she was beginning to think that he didn’t actually believe that. A king, or any leader, really, must always seem confident for the purposes of morale, if the leader is freaking out, then such panic can spread like wildfire, but she wondered if there was another reason for him to be saying that. Not only that, but his relationship with Loghain was clearly rocky, at the moment.

She wondered if she’d have time to kick her armor off.

“You handled yourself well,” Duncan said, “I did not think you knew about strategy.”

“I don’t,” she replied, “or at least I’ve never studied it.”

“I see,” Duncan replied before stopping them both to hand her the treaties, “I want you to hold on to these for the time being. I trust that they will be safer with you.”

“Understood,” she replied carefully folding them to stow in her pack.

“Ah, good, you’re here, Alistair,” Duncan said as he saw Alistair near Duncan’s bonfire, “I won’t have to send someone to find you.”

“Did you need me for something?” Alistair asked.

“Kallian, you heard the plan,” Duncan nodded, “you and Alistair will go to the Tower of Ishal and ensure that the beacon is lit.”

“What?” Alistair said in shock, “I won’t be in the battle?”

“This is by the King’s personal request, Alistair,” Duncan replied, “if the beacon is not lit, Teyrn Loghain’s men won’t know when to charge.”

“So he needs two Grey Wardens standing up there holding the torch,” Alistair replied, “just in case, right?”

“I’m ready to go,” she replied, she could explain to Alistair why they were being sent to the Tower, but it would take too long and she didn’t know how much time they’d have before they needed to be there. Since time was probably of the essence, she’ll explain later.

“Yes, so am I,” Alistair sighed heavily.

“You’ll need to cross the gorge and head through the gate and up to the Tower entrance,” Duncan explained, though she didn’t know why he was bothering to explain it, she clearly knew where it was, “from the top, you’ll overlook the entire valley.”

“When do we light the beacon?” she asked.

“We will signal you when the time is right,” Duncan replied, “Alistair will know what to look for.”

“And if the Archdemon appears?”

“We soil our drawers,” Alistair replied, “that’s what.”

“If it does, leave it to us,” Duncan replied, “I want no heroics from either of you.”

“How much time do we have?” she asked.

“The battle is about to begin,” Duncan answered, “once I leave, move quickly. You’ll have less than an hour.”

The answer was: no, she wouldn’t have time to kick her armor off. Wonderful.

“Can we join the battle afterward?” Alistair asked.

“Stay with the Teyrn’s men and guard the Tower,” Duncan replied, “if you are needed, we will send word.”

“Understood,” she nodded.

“I… understand,” Alistair sighed.

“Then I must join the others. From here, you two are on your own,” Duncan replied, “remember, you are both Grey Wardens. I expect you to be worthy of that title.”

“Duncan…” Alistair said, “may the Maker watch over you.”

“May He watch over us all,” Duncan replied before they parted ways.

She saw flashes of light in the sky and began counting. Trying to get a sense of the distance between them and the storm and whether she’ll have to worry about suffering a lightning strike to the face. She doubted it, there were many things taller than her in the area, but who knows, maybe the Maker would guide one straight to her. She wouldn’t put it past Him, the worlds been screwing her over pretty bad lately. The boom of thunder finally hit, ten seconds… She forgot how to convert that into knowing how far away it was. Or maybe she never knew. Geography was never in line with her interests, she took classes about it, sure, but that was only to fill requirements. She had a tendency to immediately forget everything she’d learned as soon as the test was over.

…Where did she study again? Actually… What did she study?

Ah, well, probably for the best.

“FOR FERELDEN!” she heard a chorus of people shouting as the battle began.

“Let’s get across the bridge and over to the Tower of Ishal!” Alistair shouted to be heard over the sounds the wind, and rain, as well as the sounds of battle.

“Let’s go,” she nodded and began running across the bridge.

She definitely felt slower and weighed down, she’ll have to adjust her breathing otherwise she won’t last long. Curious, she glanced to the side of the bridge where archers and ballista were positioned… Much as she expected, there was a sea of Darkspawn fighting the King’s soldiers. It looked like a hellscape.

“Help me! They’re everywhere!” one of the guards shouted as they neared, and she clicked her tongue, “they’ve taken the Tower!”

She had been right.

“What happened?” she asked quickly.

“You… you’re Grey Wardens, aren’t you?!” the Guard said, “the Tower… it’s been taken!”

“What are you talking about, man?” Alistair replied in shock, “taken how?”

“The lower chambers,” she answered, “they opened the lower chambers to take the Tower after the battle had started.”

“How do you know that?!” Alistair stared at her in shock.

“She’s right. The Darkspawn came up through the lower chambers!” the Guard replied, “they’re everywhere! Most of our men are dead!”

“Then we have to get to the beacon,” Alistair said quickly, “and light it ourselves.”

For some reason.

She was still leading.

She was still in a position of power.

With three other seasoned fighters, she, the less experienced, and most probably, the youngest, was leading.

Why was she still leading the others?

Also, she still didn’t know how to either fight with or against a mage.

What was even happening anymore?

Maybe she should just stop thinking about it, the world stopped making sense a month ago, she should really stop wasting energy on trying to make sense of it.

So she cleared her mind as they cleared their way to the Tower entrance, she had to focus on adjusting her breathing to deal with the added weight and stress on her limbs. Not only that, but she had to consciously adjust her own movements since the armor was hampering her full range of movement.

She stuck to the shadows this time, she didn’t have either the strength or energy to waste dragging enemy bodies around to use as shields. Her flexibility and speed had taken larger hits than she’d anticipated, and she had to resort to ducking behind columns and other assorted furnishings to protect her from ranged attacks. She didn’t have the time or mental capacity to focus on anyone but herself, so she simply trusted everyone to know what they were doing.

They got to the room with stairs leading up to the upper floors of the Tower and she frowned.

There were barricades and skinned corpses… They’d had to have been here for at least two hours.

“Maker’s breath!” Alistair said in shock, “what are these Darkspawn doing ahead of the rest of the horde? There wasn’t supposed to be any resistance here!”

“It’s a forward group to take control of the encampment,” she answered, “in short: they probably knew the plan. Or something close enough to it.”

“Now that’s a scary thought… They couldn’t know about the plan!” Alistair replied, “how? They’re not that smart, are they?”

“We can figure it out later,” she replied, “we need to get to the beacon.”

“You’re right, let’s go,” Alistair replied as they quickly began ascending the Tower.

She was beginning to feel exhausted, which was all sorts of not good, she was confident in her own stamina, but that was when she _wasn’t_ wearing armor. She was already not at her best, but to add armor to it? Her body was suffering under the strain.

“Loghain better be ready to charge as soon as we light the signal,” Alistair said, and she had her doubts. The Darkspawn had control of the Tower since before the battle, and she couldn’t help but remember that foreboding feeling she’d gotten earlier, “the King is depending on us!”

They continued up the stairs, her limbs were heavy, but she forced herself to keep going, to keep fighting. One foot in front of the other, one swipe after the next. Black viscous blood clinging to her, coagulating on her skin and armor, making her already uncomfortable state even _worse_.

And at the top of the Tower was a behemoth of a Darkspawn, one she’d never seen before.

“Throw a fireball at the beacon!” she shouted, “and Alistair, I’m gonna need you to give me a boost, lift your shield to the ceiling when I tell you to!”

“Alright,” Alistair nodded as the mage complied and threw a fireball at the beacon. Good. Whether they made it through this fight or not, the beacon was lit.

“Now!” she shouted, and made a mad dash for him, using his shield as a stepping stone to launch herself up onto its head. She stabilized her balance as quickly as she could and slammed her dagger into its eye socket, before rolling off its body and yanking her weapon free. She glanced to the side: the beacon was indeed lit.

But just as she was about to collapse from exhaustion, she heard a shout of panic and turned to look. Behind them, Darkspawn were ascending the staircase. She tightened her grip on her weapons and rushed to meet the opposition. She rolled and ducked to the best of her ability, but her body wasn’t used to the added stress, wasn’t used to being restrained like this. Her performance was shit, she could feel it, and it didn’t feel good. These were movements her body should be capable of handling, should be capable of doing, should be capable of easily flowing through, but her breathing was labored, her muscles tired. In a final act of desperation, she threw Alistair behind her, he knew more about being a Grey Warden than she did, it would be better for him to survive. At least this way, maybe she won’t feel as ashamed of herself when she reunited with those she’d lost in the afterlife.

She felt arrows pierce through her, and in her last moments, apologized to her Father, Soris, and Shianni… 

It doesn’t look like she’ll be able to return home after all.

***

Her Mother hand turned into a giant bird and flew off once the battle had begun.

To where and for what purpose? She did not know.

Though she suspected that she’ll learn why soon enough.


	11. How the Cat Slept While the World Wept

Numb.

She felt numb.

Cyrion was sitting, hunched over the table, his face in his hands sobbing. Soris was trying to soothe him.

But all she could feel was numb.

The Darkspawn had won the Battle of Ostagar…? 

All of the Grey Wardens had been wiped out…?

Her fault.

This was her fault.

Kallian hated violence, she never willingly sought out confrontations, always seeking to settle things as civilly and peacefully as possible. The men she’d led through the back alleys were different in that they were a danger to the safety of all women in Denerim, so Kallian had to deal with them, Kallian never sat idle when she knew there was something she could do about something.

If she hadn’t smashed that bottle over Vaughan’s head, he wouldn’t have shown up later during the wedding…

He wouldn’t have come with a contingent of guards, wouldn’t have interrupted the wedding, wouldn’t have stolen them from the stage, wouldn’t have forced her cousin to become a monster, wouldn’t have forced her cousin to have no choice but to be conscripted into the Grey Wardens…

Wouldn’t have gotten killed.

Her fault.

This could only be her fault.

Kallian had accepted all of the blame, all of the guilt. All of it. Kallian had thought it her fault, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t Kallian’s fault. It wasn’t Kallian’s fault at all. It was her fault. It had never been Kallian’s fault, it had always been her fault. All Kallian did was try to protect her, try to protect all of them. To keep them safe from harm, and when she’d failed, Kallian had hated herself, hated the weak her who couldn’t protect those she loved most. Kallian didn’t deserve to hate herself, Kallian didn’t deserve to be hated…

It was her actions, but her beloved cousin was the one to pay the price, and now she would never see her again.

Her voice finally came out in a scream.

***

The Teyrn…

Had betrayed the King…?

Other than both him and Kallian, all of the Wardens were dead… If Morrigan’s Mother had been any later than she was, they’d both definitely be dead. He didn’t know why Morrigan’s Mother had saved them. He didn’t want to pester them, they were working hard trying to stabilize Kallian’s condition, and honestly? He wasn’t even sure if she would make it. She’d thrown him behind her, and he didn’t even know why.

He didn’t understand.

How did things go so wrong so quickly?

It would take a miracle for Kallian to make a full recovery, she’d taken so much damage. 

She’d been drifting in and out of consciousness for the past two weeks.

He’d never felt so powerless in his whole life.

And all he could do was pray she would wake up.

***

On her way to Redcliffe, she’d crossed paths with Bann Teagan and from him she’d learned that the Darkspawn had won the battle. That Loghain had betrayed the King, that her brother Fergus was dead. She was the only one left. The only Cousland left.

A burning hatred in her chest.

She shouldn’t be the only one left.

She shouldn’t be the only Cousland left alive.

Loghain was being supported by Howe. She and Teagan decided to head into Redcliffe together, they both had reason to petition Arl Eamon for help.

***

He couldn’t believe it.

He couldn’t believe that she was dead. 

His cousin, his often seemingly invincible cousin was dead. He hated the small part of himself that blamed Shianni, especially since he knew that she was already blaming herself for it, he knew that out of everyone mourning, no one mourned so loudly, and heart-wrenchingly as Shianni. The entire Alienage was in mourning, Kallian had been such a big part of their lives, they’d all felt the loss of her presence, but it was nothing compared to this. Before, they could hope that she’d return home one day, that they’d see her again one day. But now? Now they knew that she was never coming back, they’d never see her again.

Never.

His tears found their way down his cheeks as his hand went to the braided cord bracelet Kallian had made for him.

***

She was weak, but she needed to return to Kinloch Hold.

They needed to know what Loghain had done.

She remembered her interactions with King Cailan, a man she had respected as the King of Ferelden. She remembered her interactions with that Warden Recruit, Kallian Tabris, she had been so full of potential, potential that had been lost because of one man’s betrayal. She remembered all of the other mages who had answered King Cailan’s call for aid against the Darkspawn.

She had to tell them what he’d done to the King, how he had betrayed Cailan.

She used her staff to help support her weight as she traveled towards Lothering, she would find a caravan to take her to Kinloch Hold.

First Enchanter Irving must be informed of what has happened outside of the Circle, what happened at Ostagar.

***

He was tired of living, he was tired of Taliesen constantly trying to keep him alive. He was tired of having his worthlessness shoved down his throat by the Crows. They’d made it perfectly clear that he had no worth to them, that he wasn’t anything. It was his cockiness and arrogance that had gotten Rinna killed. He was both surprised and glad that his bid to slay the remaining two Wardens in Ferelden was accepted.

He stepped off of the boat that had brought him here from Antiva and headed for the Denerim Palace.

“I bring word, sire, there are demands from the Bannorn that you step down from the regency,” Howe, his employer said, “ they are said to be gathering their forces, as are your allies. It appears it will be civil war after all, despite the Darkspawn. Pity.”

“Have you heard any news of the two Wardens?” Loghain asked.

“No, not yet, sire,” Howe replied, “are you certain they’re still alive?”

“Positive,” Loghain replied, “especially considering that woman’s knack for strategy.”

Woman? One of the two remaining Wardens was a woman? Despite himself, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of interest.

“Then, I have arranged for a… solution,” Howe said, “with your leave.”

“The Antivan Crows send their regards,” he said.

“An assassin?” Loghain sighed heavily.

“Against Grey Wardens,” Howe replied, “and especially considering how dangerous you deem one of them, in particular, is, we will need the very best, sire.”

“And the most expensive,” he added.

“Just get it done,” Loghain sighed heavily again before gesturing to two wanted posters, one of a Human man with blonde hair and brown eyes, and another of an Elven woman with scarlet hair and emerald eyes, “the man’s name is Alistair, and the woman’s name is Kallian. She is by far the most dangerous of the two. Make sure that she at least dies.”

Good, if she were truly as skilled as Loghain suspects, he’ll get the death he’d hoped for.

***

Why her Mother insisted on saving Kallian’s life was anyone's guess. ‘Twas most strange. Though her Mother wouldn’t divulge her plans to her, or anyone else.

She would have simply let the woman die, especially considering the damage her body had suffered. A cracked skull on its own was hard to heal, but she’d resembled an Elven shaped pincushion when her Mother had brought both her and Alistair back from the Wilds.

She still had absolutely no clue what her Mother had meant when she’d called her ‘Traveler’. Nor did she know how she had understood her Mother’s insufferably vague and cryptic words.

That other Warden, Alistair was moping about, praying to that ridiculous absent god Humans so loved to worship: the Maker.

Hopefully the woman would awaken soon, she could do without him getting on her nerves.

***

_She had no idea what was happening anymore._

_The area around her was on fire, and she was surrounded by a sea of corpses. Weapons drawn as she and the other woman clashed against each other. She didn’t know why she kept fighting her, didn’t know why she didn’t just allow the woman to kill her._

_Maybe she didn’t want to die…? That didn’t matter, she needed too anyway._

_“Wake up,” the woman snarled looking down at her blade pressed against her neck, “and face your own weakness.”_

_“You say that like I have a choice,” she coughed._

It hurt.

Everything hurt.

She’d never been in so much pain in either of her lives.

“Nggh… I’m alive?” she groaned, “I don’t think you’re supposed to wake up from death…”

Dear lord, how hard was it for one woman to stay dead? 

Very, apparently. 

She didn’t know if she should consider herself lucky or unlucky.

“Ah, your eyes finally open,” a voice said, Morrigan, she thinks, “Mother shall be pleased.”

“Where…? What happened to the Darkspawn?” she asked groggily, “how am I still even alive…?”

“You are back in the Wilds, of course. You were injured, and then Mother rescued you,” Morrigan answered, “I am Morrigan, lest you have forgotten, and I have just bandaged your wounds. How does your memory fare? Do you remember Mother’s rescue?”

“I remember being overwhelmed by Darkspawn…” she said holding a hand to her head trying to remember what happened. It was all foggy and vague, all she remembered was yelling at a mage to throw a fireball at the beacon.

Ah, right. The Darkspawn had come up behind them and ambushed them. They’d succeeded in taking the Tower then.

“Mother managed to save you and your friend, though ‘twas a close call,” Morrigan replied, “what is important is that you both live… The man who was to respond to your signal quit the field. The Darkspawn won your battle. Those he abandoned were massacred. Your friend… he is not taking it well.”

Why wasn’t she surprised? 

Oh, right, because surprise stems from not expecting something to happen. Loghain hadn’t defended the Tower at all, she had a feeling that he had never intended to respond to the signal. If they hadn’t lit the beacon, he could have said that the signal never came, and that was why he thought Ostagar was a lost cause. However, since they’d managed to light the beacon, he couldn’t pull that excuse, people had seen it. Hopefully, that’ll alert people to the fact that something was amiss.

“You mean Alistair?” she asked, “what about the Grey Wardens? And the King?”

She knew they were probably dead, but it would be better to hear it and know for sure.

“All dead. Your friend has veered between denial and grief since Mother told him. He is outside by the fire. Mother asked to see you when you awoke.”

Well, at least she’d succeeded in saving _someone_ that was a pretty good feat for her, especially considering her track record. It was practically a miracle. She’d failed to save and protect so many others, it was nice to hear that she’d managed to do it at least once.

But the rest of the Grey Wardens dying? Everything she touched truly was destined to fail.

“Were my injuries severe?”

“Yes, but I expect you shall be fine, the Darkspawn did nothing Mother could not heal.”

“How long was I out for?”

“You have been drifting in and out of consciousness for around three weeks.”

“I see, do you mind if I ask you some things?”

“I do not mind, take your time.”

“Are we safe here? Where are the Darkspawn?”

“We are safe, for the moment. Mother’s magic keeps the Darkspawn away. Once you leave, ‘tis uncertain what will happen, the horde has moved on, so you might avoid it.”

“Why did your Mother save us?”

“I wonder at that myself, but she tells me nothing,” Morrigan replied, “perhaps you were the only ones she could reach… I would have rescued your King. A king would be worth a much higher ransom than you.”

“Much higher,” she agreed.

“What a sensible attitude. Mother is seldom sensible, however.”

“Though the Tower was a fair bit away from the main battlefield which was where the King was… How did she manage to rescue us?”

“She turned into a giant bird and plucked the two of you from atop the Tower, one in each talon... If you do not believe this tale, then I suggest you ask Mother yourself. She may even tell you.”

She could believe it, mostly because the world was fucking weird as fuck right now. She had absolutely no clue what anything was anymore, she’d been put in a position of power, gotten special treatment, had led Human men around without intending to doom them… She’d killed a man, actually, multiple men. Killed Darkspawn… Honestly, at this rate, she wouldn’t be surprised if her kill count was higher than Alistair’s. He definitely didn’t know under what circumstances she’d been recruited into the Wardens, and she was most certainly not going to tell him. Especially considering that though she suffered the punishment for her actions, she wasn’t the one who was hurt the most. She had no desire to divulge the pain and suffering of others to those who were not involved.

“Were there any other survivors?”

“Only stragglers that are long gone,” Morrigan replied, “you would not want to see what is happening in that valley now.”

“What’s happening?” she asked anyway.

“Are you sure you want me to describe it?”

“Yes, please,” she replied, “it’s better for me to know than for me to not know.”

“I had a good view of the battlefield. ‘Tis a grisly scene,” Morrigan answered, “there are bodies everywhere, and Darkspawn swarm them… feeding, I think… They also look for survivors and drag them back down beneath the ground. I cannot say why.”

That didn’t surprise her either. They’d interrupted the behemoth’s snack time, granted, she wondered how it had gotten up there. It had huge horns, and she just couldn’t imagine it carefully navigating the stairs of the Tower… Though it did have enough time to, especially given how long they had occupied the Tower.

“Why does your Mother want to see me?”

“I do not know, she rarely tells me her plans.”

“Thank you, for helping me Morrigan,” she said getting out of bed and then looked down at her body in shock. She ran through a few light stretches to loosen up her joints and muscles.

How did they keep her muscles from atrophy? Maybe it was a quirk of this world, magic existed and other shit was weird so best to just not question it. They probably used magic to keep her body from further deteriorating.

“I… you are welcome,” Morrigan replied, “though Mother did most of the work. I am no healer.”

“You still helped,” she offered a small smile, “and that’s not nothing… I’ll go talk to your Mother now, I suppose.”

“I will stay, and make something to eat,” Morrigan said, and she suddenly felt hungry. Which didn’t come at a surprise, especially since she was out of commission for three weeks.

Not wanting to impose any longer, she gathered her pack and inspected the remains of her armor. Yep, that wasn’t going on her body ever again. Not only did it look disgusting, but there were several holes in it where she’d obviously been struck. 

How on earth had they managed to save her? Magic, she guessed.

She pulled on a set of her preferred battle gear and did a few stretches.

Yep, much better. So with that, she thanked Morrigan again and said bid her farewell.

“See? Here is your fellow Grey Warden,” Morrigan’s Mother said, and Alistair turned to stare at her in shock, “you worry too much, young man.”

“You… you’re alive!” Alistair said in relief, “I thought you were dead for sure.”

“That makes two of us,” she replied, “but I’m not, thanks to Morrigan and her Mother.”

“This doesn’t seem real,” Alistair said clearly still in shock from the events that transpired almost a month ago… As she’d expected, he’d hadn’t had a chance to properly come to terms with it yet, “if it weren’t for Morrigan’s Mother, we’d be dead on top of that Tower.”

“Do not talk about me as if I am not present, lad,” Morrigan’s Mother interjected.

“I— I didn’t mean… but what do we call you?” Alistair replied, “you never told us your name.”

“Names are pretty, but useless,” Flemeth replied, “the Chasind folk call me Flemeth. I suppose it will do.”

“ _The_ Flemeth? From the legends?” Alistair stared at her in shock, “Daveth was right— you’re the Witch of the Wilds, aren’t you?”

“And what does that mean?” Flemeth replied, “I know a bit of magic, and it has served you both well, has it not?”

“It has,” she replied, “thank you… Though that begs the question: why _did_ you save us? It couldn’t have been easy.”

“Well, we cannot have all the Grey Wardens dying at once, can we?” Flemeth replied, “someone has to deal with these Darkspawn.”

“Then why didn’t you save Duncan?” Alistair asked, “he is… he was our leader.”

She honestly didn’t care, either way, she was rid of him. Granted, she’ll never tell Alistair that, he practically worshiped the man, saw him as a father-figure. She one the other hand? Not so much.

She’ll keep it a secret though, Alistair didn’t need to know she hated the man, especially since he was obviously broken up about it all.

“I am sorry for your Duncan, but your grief must come later… in the dark shadows before you take vengeance, as my Mother once said. Duty must come now,” Flemeth replied, “it has always been the Grey Wardens’ duty to unite the lands against the Blight. Or did that change when I wasn’t looking?”

“Well, the land is hardly united, thanks to Loghain,” she sighed.

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Alistair replied, “why would he do that?”

“Now _that_ is a good question,” Flemeth replied, “men’s hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature… Perhaps he believes the Blight is an army he can outmaneuver, perhaps he does not see that the evil behind it is the true threat.”

She’d wager it was out of paranoia and hatred, he’d fought against the Orlesian Occupation. When Cailan went to Orlais for aid, he probably envisioned a future where Ferelden was re-occupied… She’ll keep this to herself for now, along with her suspicions about both the Tower and the beacon. She wasn’t sure, and she hated implicating people without being certain.

“The Archdemon,” Alistair said.

“Then we have to find the Archdemon and kill it,” she shrugged.

“By ourselves? No Grey Warden has ever defeated a Blight without an army of a half-dozen nations at his back,” Alistair replied, “not to mention, I don’t know how.”

Sounds like she’ll have to do a bit of research into this, she should make a mental note to buy books about Grey Wardens and the previous Blights… Ahh, what a pain.

“How to kill the Archdemon, or how to raise an army?” Flemeth replied, “it seems to me, those are two different questions, hmm? Have the Wardens no allies these days?”

“I… I don’t know,” Alistair sighed, “Duncan said that the Grey Wardens of Orlais had been called… But I suspect Loghain has taken steps against them.”

“Will you help us fight this Blight, Flemeth?” she might as well ask.

“Me? I am just an old woman who lives in the Wilds,” Flemeth replied, “I know nothing of Blights and Darkspawn.”

She was lying, she already knew a lot about the Blight. Enough to know that there was something else to it… Or was she talking about Loghain when she’d said that?

Well, it’s not her place to pry into the lives of others. Especially since she didn’t want others to pry into her own life.

“Well… whatever Loghain’s insanity, he obviously thinks the Darkspawn are a minor threat,” Alistair said, “we must warn everyone that this isn’t the case.”

“And who will believe you?” Flemeth asked, “unless you think to convince this Loghain of his mistake?”

“He just betrayed his own King!” Alistair replied, “if Arl Eamon knew what he did at Ostagar, he would be the first to call for his execution!”

“Perhaps we could go to him, then,” she said.

“I suppose… Arl Eamon wasn’t at Ostagar, he still has all his men. And he was Cailan’s Uncle,” Alistair replied, “I know him. He’s a good man, respected in the Landsmeet… Of course! We could go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help!”

“Sounds like a good idea,” she nodded.

“Such determination,” Flemeth laughed, “how intriguing.”

“I still don’t know if Arl Eamon’s help would be enough,” Alistair replied, “he can’t defeat the Darkspawn horde by himself!”

“Then I’m glad Duncan handed me these before the battle,” she said pulling out the treaties, “also that they’re not covered in… gore.”

“See? There’s a smart lass,” Flemeth said.

“Of course! The treaties! Grey Wardens can demand aid from Dwarves, Elves, mages, and other places!” Alistair said, “they’re obligated to help us during a Blight!”

“I may be old, but Dwarves, Elves, mages, this Arl Eamon, and who knows what else…” Flemeth said, “this sounds like an army to me.”

“So can we do this?” Alistair asked, “go to Redcliffe and these other places and… build an army?”

Why is he asking her? She still wasn’t comfortable with this whole position of power thing… Then again, it seemed as though he was still processing his grief, and she’d already been dealing with hers for a while… He’ll have to get back on his feet eventually, but all things in good time.

“I doubt it’ll be that easy,” she replied, “but I suppose we won’t know until we try.”

Oh no, was she going to have to lead an army? She was definitely playing with fire now, or lightning… she supposed she should keep an eye on the weather. It didn’t seem like she’d be able to die quite yet, the world that had fucked her over, that part of her didn’t care about, still needed her, there were still things she could do. Granted, she was afraid, everything else she’d touched failed miserably.

“When is it ever easy?” Flemeth laughed.

“Things always seem to go to shit easily,” she replied causing Flemeth to laugh even more.

“It’s always been the Grey Wardens’ duty to stand against a Blight,” Alistair said, “and right now, we’re the Grey Wardens.”

“So you are set, then?” Flemeth asked, “ready to be Grey Wardens?”

“Guess so,” she nodded, “thank you for everything, Flemeth.”

“No, no, thank _you_ , you are the Grey Wardens here, not I,” Flemeth replied as Morrigan left their hut, “now… before you go, there is yet one more thing I can offer you.”

“The stew is bubbling, Mother dear,” Morrigan announced, “shall we have two guests for the eve or none?”

“The Grey Wardens are leaving shortly, girl,” Flemeth replied, “and you will be joining them.”

“Such a sha—” Morrigan cut herself off and stared at her Mother in shock, “what?!”

“You heard me, girl,” Flemeth laughed, “the last time I looked, you had ears!”

“Thank you,” she replied, “but if Morrigan doesn’t wish to join us…”

“Her magic will be useful,” Flemeth replied, “even better, she knows the Wilds and how to get past the horde.”

“Have I no say in this?!” Morrigan frowned indignantly.

“You have been itching to get out of the Wilds for years. Here is your chance,” Flemeth laughed, “as for you, Wardens, consider this repayment for your lives.”

“Very well,” she nodded, “we’ll take her with us.”

She really had no fucking clue what was going on anymore. How was this repayment for their lives? She didn’t understand. But maybe she didn’t need to understand. Nothing made sense anymore, she should really stop trying to make sense of it all. It was hard, she liked being able to understand things.

“Not to… look a gift horse in the mouth,” Alistair said carefully, “but won’t this add to our problems? Out of the Wilds, she’s an apostate.”

“If you do not wish help from us illegal mages, young man,” Flemeth pointed out, “perhaps I should have left you on that Tower.”

“I would have also definitely died,” she added, “there’s no way I should have been able to survive that.”

“Point,” Alistair said, “taken.”

“Mother… this is not how I wanted this,” Morrigan said, and honestly, she could relate. Kind of. She had never wanted to leave the Alienage, “I am not even ready—”

“You must be ready, alone, these two must unite Ferelden against the Darkspawn,” Flemeth replied, “they need you, Morrigan. Without you, they will surely fail, and all will perish under the Blight. Even I.”

Thanks for the vote of confidence. She was pretty confident in the fact that she’d probably screw something up and fuck everything up. Everything she touched failed, who’s to say that this wouldn’t either? All she knew how to do was ruin things so wholly and completely it wasn’t even funny.

“I… understand,” Morrigan sighed.

“And you, Wardens? Do you understand?” Flemeth asked, “I give you that which I value above all in this world. I do this because you _must_ succeed.”

“I understand,” she nodded.

“Allow me to get my things,” Morrigan sighed again before returning to the hut, “if you please.”

She flipped through the treaties for a bit, Morrigan probably knew more about them than she did. And while that was all fine and dandy, both she and Alistair were the Wardens to which the treaties referred to. Ultimately, they were the ones who’d have to navigate the social interactions and talk to the politicians or whatever to get their help with the Blight. They couldn’t leave it to Morrigan, they needed to be able to stand on their own. Alistair was still in shock, and she’d been dealing with her shit for a while, making her a better candidate to get through this while Alistair processed this information. She should make a mental note to check up on him later, and see how he’s holding up.

Though she had a lot of things to ponder, she needed to focus on herself for the moment. She didn’t die the past three times she’d expected to, so she needs to figure out how she’s going to go about all of this. Especially since she was in a weird-ass position of power, and she needed to get used to this fact. She was raised to be a servant, a wife, a mother in the future, and to not stand out as much as possible. But here she was. If she didn’t get used to this she’d get exhausted as she jumped and panicked over every bit of… important she did. Leading, making important decisions… She was definitely going to receive a lightning strike to the face soon.

She should probably keep her inexperience and such hidden from Alistair, he doesn’t need that added stress. He just lost his father-figure, he doesn’t need to feel bad about pushing responsibility onto her. She was good at hiding things, she’d been doing it her entire life, after all. Hiding that she had experiences from her previous life, that she’d come from another world… 

Yep, she was good at hiding things like this.

“I am at your disposal, Grey Wardens. I suggest a village north of the Wilds as our first destination, ’tis not far and you will find much you need there,” Morrigan said after exiting the hut, “or, if you prefer, I shall simply be your silent guide. The choice is yours.”

“No, personally, I’d prefer you speak your mind,” she replied.

“You will regret saying that,” Flemeth laughed.

“Dear, sweet mother,” Morrigan said, “you are so kind to cast me out like this. How fondly I shall remember this moment.”

“Well, I always said if you want something done, do it yourself,” Flemeth replied dryly, “or hear about it for a decade or two afterward.”

“I just…” Alistair said trying to wrap his head around everything, “do you really want to take her along because her Mother says so?”

“One: We’re two people,” she said holding up her fingers as she counted off on them, “two: we’re two people. Three: we need all the help we can get, we’re two people. Four: I don’t know how to navigate the Wilds, or do you?”

“Three of those points were the same,” Alistair pointed out.

“How very astute of you to notice,” she replied, “however, I repeated them three times because _we’re two people against a veteran war general like Loghain, and whatever else is going down in Ferelden._ ”

“I guess you’re right…” Alistair sighed, “the Grey Wardens have always taken allies where they could find them.”

“I am so pleased to have your approval,” Morrigan said, voice practically dripping with sarcasm.

“I have a few questions, actually,” she said as she thought about things, she’d ask if Morrigan thought her Mother would be fine without her, but she obviously would. Especially given Flemeth’s history, “have you ever been outside of the Wilds?”

“From time to time. I have been to the village I mentioned, ” Morrigan answered, “watched its people, and pondered what curious beings they are.”

“Oh! People watching!” she clapped her hands together, “I used to have fun doing that every so often… I used to wonder what kind of lives they were living and stuff…”

“…And nobody noticed you watching?” Alistair asked.

“I sat on rooftops so that I wouldn’t get in the way of anyone's business,” she shrugged, “it started off with me just wanting to find a decently quiet place to relax for a bit and then naturally evolved into people watching.”

“On occasion, I purchased goods from the village merchants, there I spoke with men, a little. There they stared and knew me as an outsider,” Morrigan continued, “Mother wishes for me to expand the horizon of my experience beyond the Wilds... Even she was not born here.”

“Is that what you want?” she asked because leaving home wasn’t what she wanted.

“What I _want_ is to see mountains. I wish to witness the ocean and step into its waters, I want to experience a city rather than see it in my mind,” Morrigan said, and she wished she could swim in the sea too, “so, yes, this is what I want... Actually leaving is… harder than I thought, however. Perhaps Mother is right— it must simply be done quickly.”

“What can you tell us about this village to the north?” she asked.

“‘Tis a small place of little consequence called Lothering, no more than a stop along your Imperial Highway where travelers purchase goods from local farms and smiths,” Morrigan replied, “I would go more often were it not for the town’s Chantry. It makes the village particularly intolerant and unpleasant for a stranger such as me.”

She was a little surprised she hadn’t heard of it since she traveled to Ostagar from Denerim… Maybe she had and just forgot, far more likely. She figured she’d die so there was no need to really memorize the terrain.

“A Chantry?” Alistair said, “and they never, in all this time, thought that _maybe_ you were a witch?”

“Of course they have,” Morrigan replied, “they even called out their Templars once. They found nothing.”

“Is there a reason to stop by Lothering?” she asked.

“I mention it for its tavern, where travelers gather with news from other places,” Morrigan explained, “‘tis small enough that our appearance might go unnoticed… Beyond that, ‘tis close and I know the way.”

“I see,” she said, “how are we going to get past the Darkspawn.”

She’d never had to worry about sleuthing before in her entire life. Either of her lives. She’d never intended on leaving the Alienage, so these kinds of things weren’t exactly things she’d ever considered… She was going to have to get used to this kind of thing, and fast. She was good at adapting to new situations, but this was so far removed from what she was used to it was jarringly weird.

“The real question is how we are going to get your friend pas the Darkspawn,” Morrigan replied, “is it not?”

“That’s true,” Alistair replied, “we can sense the Darkspawn. Conversely, they can sense us.”

“Well, that’s one mystery solved then,” she sighed.

“What mystery?” Alistair quirked a brow.

“Why they attacked the Tower,” she explained, “true, it was also so that they could take over the encampment, but you said it yourself right? They couldn’t have known the plan. The reason they were there was because they didn’t need to know the plan. They could sense that the highest concentration of Grey Wardens would be at the battlefield, this gave them time to prepare to attack the Tower since they wouldn’t have to deal with opposition from the Wardens there.”

“Of course! That’s the only way they could have known!” Alistair said as realization dawned on him, “in any case… we should be able to sneak past smaller groups, but larger ones or particularly intelligent Darkspawn will always detect us.”

“Mother has given me something else for them to ‘smell’ instead as we pass by,” Morrigan replied, “‘tis important we head out of the Wilds, however, not farther in.”

“What skills do you have?” she asked, it would help to know what she could do in advance so that she can plan around it.

“I know a few spells, though I am nowhere near as powerful as Mother,” Morrigan replied, “I have also studied history. And your Grey Warden treaties.”

Yep, Morrigan definitely knew more about them than she did, she didn’t get to read them before, because she’d just handed them over to Duncan, and only got them back once the battle started.

“Can you cook?” Alistair asked.

“I… can cook,” Morrigan frowned, “yes.”

“Don’t mind him, you don’t have to cook,” she sighed.

“You missed your chance,” Alistair replied, “now it’s charred rabbit from here on out.”

“Are you just going to assume _I_ can’t cook?” she frowned, “if anything, we’ll take turns… In any case, I suppose we should be off.”

“Farewell, Mother,” Morrigan sighed, “do not forget the stew on the fire. I would hate to return to a burned-down hut.”

“Bah!” Flemeth scoffed, “‘tis far more likely you will return to see this entire area, along with my hut, swallowed up by the Blight.”

“I… all I meant was…” Morrigan replied.

“Yes, I know,” Flemeth replied, “do try to have fun, dear.”

***

He thanked the Maker that Kallian was still alive.

He didn’t think he could do this on his own, and with her leading, he could take time to properly process the fact that everyone he knew was dead. Including Duncan… He couldn’t help but feel like he’d failed him, that he should have been on the battlefield with Duncan, not in the Tower. Then again, if he’d been on the battlefield, and Kallian had headed to the Tower anyway, there was no chance that either of them would have survived. If that’d happened there would absolutely be no Wardens left in Ferelden. He had to admit that if she’d gone alone, she definitely wouldn’t have survived.

“Kallian,” he said a day into their travels, it had been bugging him.

“Hm?”

“Why did you throw me behind you at the top of the Tower?”

“I know absolutely nothing about the Wardens, it would have made more sense for you to survive than if I had,” Kallian answered, “I considered my options and made my decision.”

“I see…”

“It worked out in the end anyway,” Kallian said, “I don’t regret it, there’s no way I could’ve done this on my own. I’m glad we got sent to the Tower together. Otherwise, we’d both definitely be dead, Loghain would go unchallenged, and Ferelden would’ve fallen to the Blight.”

“…You have a good point,” he sighed.

“I think that Kallian could do this without you,” Morrigan chimed in.

“No way,” Kallian laughed, “there’s no way.”

So, it was a good thing he’d survived, Kallian wouldn’t have been able to do this on her own. He may have failed Duncan on the battlefield, but Kallian was right. If they hadn’t survived, Loghain would go unpunished, and Ferelden would have fallen to the Blight. This way, he could avenge Duncan, his half-brother, and the rest of the Wardens. 

Loghain will pay for this.

***

She was glad that Kallian had survived— if she had to travel with Alistair alone… ‘Twas best not to think about it. The fool had been moping about ever since her Mother had rescued them both from the Tower. Even in the Wilds, Kallian had been a far better leader than Alistair, she was far more level headed, and was taking the loss of her fellow Wardens far better than Alistair was.

“Kallian, I’m curious of something,” she said as Kallian was trying to start a fire by striking flint together.

“Oh?” Kallian replied stopping her movements to look at her.

“You seem to be handling the loss of your fellow Wardens far easier than Alistair,” she said.

“True, but that’s to be expected,” Kallian replied, “I didn’t truly get to know any of them. Whereas Alistair had been with them for six months… He’s working his way through the stages of grief.”

“Stages of grief?” she asked, this was not something she’d ever heard of.

“Denial, when you can’t believe it happened and are still processing it as a thing that really and truly happened. Anger: where you’re angry at the world for it happening, that the world allowed them to die, or lash out at other people. Bargaining: you think about the ‘what ifs’ and the ‘if only's’ such as if only I could go back in time to tell them to not do the thing that would lead to them getting killed,” Kallian explained counting off her fingers, “Depression: feeling empty and wondering if there’s any point in continuing to go on, often times you’d rather isolate yourself while you work through it. And finally, Acceptance: where you acknowledge that they are in fact gone, and will never come back, and are thus able to finally move on with your life… It’s an important healing process.”

“I see,” she said, ‘twas most interesting to learn how much Kallian seemed to know.

“He’s still in denial,” Kallian said, “can take a bit to get through, but he’ll get there eventually.”

“Move back,” she said and Kallian obeyed despite being confused.

“…That’s so handy,” Kallian said as she lit the fire with a flick of her wrist, “thanks, Morrigan. Now I can get to cooking.”

“You are most welcome.”

***

Currently, she was glad that she was both a rogue and raised to be a servant. She could easily sneak up on animals as she took her turn foraging for food. She was absolute garbage with a bow, but her aim with throwing knives wasn’t too bad, and she was pretty decent at straight-up ambushing them.

She heard barking and saw her pupper run towards them, she crouched down to pet her, but she turned and growled. 

There were Darkspawn chasing after her.

She pulled her daggers from their sheaths and moved to attack. Her movements were already much better compared to the last time she’d fought against Darkspawn. She moved through her stances, attacks, dodges, and counterattacks with ease.

When the battle was over, her pupper smashed her face into her legs knocking her over.

“I think she was out there looking for you,” Alistair said watching her get toppled over, “she’s… chosen you. Mabari are like that. They call it imprinting.”

“Yes, okay, yeah, I missed you too,” she coughed, “but I can’t breathe with you standing on me like that.”

“Does this mean we’re going to have this mangy beast following us about now?” Morrigan sighed, “wonderful.”

“She’s not mangy,” Alistair cooed at her dog as she stepped off of her.

“My name is Kallian, your name is Diana,” she said scratching her behind her ears. She should let her know that her name was different in this world, “but I’m going to call you Ana.”

Diana barked happily, she’d always called her by various different nicknames in their past lives. Thankfully, she had always been smart enough to easily adjust to her annoying tendencies.

The world may be going to shit, but at least she got reunited with her doggo.


	12. How the Nightingale and the Qunari Met the Cat

They’d finally made it to the Imperial Highway, Diana being a massive help with hunting. She should probably find a way to get a message to Shianni saying she’s alive and to stop blaming herself, especially since she knew that Shianni would have turned the guilt on herself. As strong a woman as Shianni was, she’d been through enough in the past two months, and she knew how her cousin thought. They’d grown up together, there’s no way she wouldn’t be blaming herself. She’ll probably have to be extremely sneaky about it. Luckily, she knew the back alleys of Denerim far better than anyone else, she could slip into the Alienage, leave a note, and slip out without anyone being the wiser.

Shianni needed to know she was still alive, and she’d be damned if anything stopped her from letting her know that she didn’t get her killed.

Alistair still didn’t feel like talking much, he was still working through his grief. She should probably tell him her coping mechanism. With everything that’s been happening, and with how she’d stop writing to her Mother out of shame, she’d completely forgotten about it, but Alistair could probably use it. She should probably pen an apology to her Mother saying something along the lines of ‘sorry I did the one thing you told me to never do.’. 

Her Mother was probably rolling in her grave screaming. 

At Duncan.

“Hm?” she tilted her head as she noticed something blocking the road in the distance.

“Is there something wrong?” Morrigan asked looking up at her as she paused walking on the rail.

“I think there’s something blocking the way,” she said, might be a fight. She fetched her gloves from her back pocket and pulled them on, “not sure what though.”

“I guess we won’t know until we get a closer look,” Alistair replied.

They continued walking as she wondered just what had happened in the month they’d spent away from civilization. It’s times like these when she missed the technology of her past life and the ability to Google current events.

She just hoped she could get a better pair of shoes soon, she was glad her Mother’s boots had survived Ostagar, but they were really not working for her.

“Wake up, gentlemen! More travelers to attend to,” one of the Bandits said as they neared and she jumped off of the rail, “led by an Elven servant, of all things.”

She didn’t blame him for that slight chuckle, she certainly never saw herself leading two Humans around, and she knew how she was dressed. Still, they were about to learn an important life lesson, one she’s taught many times: you should choose your targets wisely, for you never know when you’ll attack the true beast.

“Errr… They don’t look much like them others, you know,” One of his Friends said as she quieted Diana who’d begun growling by putting a hand on her head and scratching her behind the ears, “uh… maybe we should just let these ones pass…”

“Nonsense!” the Bandit replied, “greeting’s travelers!”

“Highwaymen,” Alistair frowned, “preying on those fleeing the Darkspawn, I suppose.”

“They are fools to get in our way,” Morrigan said, “I say we teach them a lesson.”

“A lesson they’ll never forget,” she agreed as she saw the body of a dead knight in the corner of her eye. She counted five of them, and on the Highway? Child’s play. The back alleys of Denerim were her domain.

“Now is that any way to greet someone?” the Bandit said, “tsk, tsk, tsk. A simple ten silvers and you’re free to move on.”

“You’re toll collectors, then?” she asked with a smile, deciding to play along for a bit.

“Indeed! For the upkeep of the Imperial Highway!” the Bandit said cheerily, “it’s a bit of a mess, isn’t it?”

“You’re fixing the highway?” she said looking around, “I think not.”

“Not much gets past you, I see,” the Bandit replied.

“It’s not really a toll,” his friend said, “we’re just robbing you, see?”

“Do shut up!” the Bandit said, “even a Genlock would have understood that.”

“Well, I’m paying for nothing,” she replied with a smile.

“Well, I can’t say I’m pleased to hear that,” the Bandit replied, “we have rules, you know.”

“Right, we get to ransack your corpse, then,” the Bandit’s friend said, “those are the rules.”

“Well, you can certainly try,” she replied drawing her weapons, and uttering the phrase Diana was waiting for, “sic 'em.”

She was getting used to fighting with others, which was a good thing, especially considering she was no longer a lone cat. She’d been observing the way both Alistair and Morrigan fought, learning so that she could mesh with them better. Also, so that she didn’t have to constantly check where Morrigan was aiming so that she could be in not that area. She was also really getting a feel for their personalities and such, which was very handy.

She was also glad that Diana still knew verbal commands.

“Alright! We surrender!” the Bandit said just as she was about to lop his head off, her dagger stopping just at his neck, “we— we’re just trying to get by before the Darkspawn get us all!”

“You should always choose your targets wisely,” she replied seeing Alistair move over to the knight’s body, “hand over everything you stole.”

“Yes! Yes of course! The coins we collected are right here,” the Bandit said quickly handing her the purse, “just over a hundred silvers. The rest is in the chests we brought! I swear!”

Ohhh! A sovereign’s worth?! She suddenly felt rich. Sure, she’d had over a sovereign before, but she’d usually have to rigorously save for it, and then usually she’d have to spend it on important things like textiles, food, and such. She could never really frivolously spend her money, extravagance was the enemy. She couldn’t even buy all of the books she’d wanted to, they were so expensive, and there were times where she’d have to prepare for a season where things were even more expensive. Information was a luxury she could barely afford.

“This is one of Arl Eamon’s!” Alistair announced.

That was all she needed to hear for his head to depart from his body, and for them to make short work out of the rest of them. With a frown, she wiped her weapons off on one of their clothes so that she could re-sheathe them.

“Did you go through his pockets?” she asked.

“Yes, he had a locket and a note,” Alistair sighed handing her the note, “he’s supposed to be meeting someone in Lothering, Ser Donall… I know him.”

“Interesting,” she said handing it back, “if you know him, you should be the one to tell him the news.”

She took her gloves off, shook them a bit, and shoved them back into her back pocket. Life would probably be easier if she just got used to wearing them, but she just couldn’t. It was too weird, and she’d been dealing with enough new experiences for the time being.

“Well, there it is: Lothering,” Alistair said as they began descending the ramp, outside of necessary interactions, he’d mostly kept to himself, “pretty as a painting.”

“Ah, so you have finally decided to rejoin us, have you?” Morrigan replied, “falling on your blade in grief seemed like too much trouble, I take it?”

“Is my being upset so hard to understand?” Alistair glowered, “have you never lost someone important to you? Just what would you do if your Mother died?”

“Before, or after I stopped laughing?” Morrigan replied.

“Right. Very creepy,” Alistair sighed, “forget I asked.”

“Well, Flemeth is very old and very powerful,” she pointed out, “she’d have to do something incredibly stupid to die.”

“Exactly,” Morrigan said.

“Regardless, Morrigan, we’ve talked about this,” she chastised, “leave him be.”

“But how can I?” Morrigan replied, causing her to sigh, “he is right there, speaking, eyes wide like those of a brainless calf.”

“Oh, I get it,” Alistair stated, causing her to hand to lovingly find its way to her face, “this is where we’re shocked to discover how you’ve never had a friend your entire life.”

“I can be friendly when I desire to,” Morrigan replied and it was true, she could, and she has been. To her, at least, “alas, desiring to be more intelligent does not make it so.”

“Anyway,” Alistair said choosing to ignore that last statement, “I thought we should talk about where we intend to go, first.”

“Do you have any thoughts on this?” she asked.

“Oh, this should be good,” Morrigan said causing her to sigh. Honestly, these two bickered like siblings.

“I think what Flemeth suggested is the best idea,” Alistair said once again choosing to ignore Morrigan, before pulling the treaties she’d handed over to him after he requested to look at them out of his pack, “these treaties… Have you looked at them?”

“No, Alistair, I’d been carrying them around and have never thought to so much as read a single letter written on them,” she said sarcastically, “of course I’ve read them. I read them before you asked for them.”

“Right, well, sorry,” Alistair said holding his hands up in apology, “there are three main groups that we have treaties for, right? Though, I also still think that Arl Eamon is our best bet for help. We might even want to go to him first.”

“There a reason you’re leaving this up to me?” she asked, still marginally uncomfortable with this whole decision-making leading thing she had going for her.

“Well, _I_ don’t know where we should go,” Alistair replied, “I’ll do whatever you decide.”

“Now that is unsurprising,” Morrigan said.

“Arl Eamon is a good man, but I don’t know for sure he’s where we should go,” Alistair said, “I’m not going to fight about it.”

“What are your thoughts, Morrigan?” she asked

She’ll really need to get used to this whole leading business. She knew how to, sure, but leading Humans around? It just felt wrong. This was going against all of her instincts. Both of her parents had made it clear, that she was not to stand out when she was among Humans, and here she was, leading them around, making decisions, being in a position of power…

“Go after your enemy directly. Find this man, Loghain, and kill him,” Morrigan said, “the rest of this business with the treaties can then be done in safety.”

“Yes, he certainly wouldn’t see that coming!” Alistair said mockingly and her hand was on her face again, “and it’s not like he has the advantage of an army, and experience and —”

“I was asked for my opinion and I gave it,” Morrigan said cutting him off, “if your wish is to come up with reasons why something cannot be done, we will stand here until the Darkspawn are upon us.”

“Were it only that easy,” she sighed, “but I’m no assassin, and neither are you. And can you even imagine Alistair assassinating someone?”

“You certainly move like an assassin,” Alistair said frowning at Morrigan who’d started laughing.

“In any case, we should find these people,” she said bringing the topic back up.

“I can give you directions if you’d like,” Alistair said.

“As nice as verbal directions are, I’d prefer a map,” she replied, “where do you think Loghain is?”

“Well, if he isn’t out in the field with his army, he’s probably going to be at the palace in Denerim,” Alistair replied, “we can go to Denerim, but somehow I suspect that they’re not going to let us just walk around. Only a suspicion, of course.”

“Was just curious,” she said, “if we do go to Denerim, we’ll have to wear disguises then.”

She’d have to wear a disguise going into Denerim regardless, especially considering the fact that she’d gotten kicked out of the city by the city guard. Luckily, she always went out of the Alienage disguised as a man, so that wouldn’t be a problem for her. She’ll have to disguise Alistair though. And she would have to be extra sneaky as she made her way into the Alienage to leave Shianni a letter to the effect of ‘Hey Bitch-tits, I’m alive, so stop blaming yourself.’.

“Then you have a plan?” Alistair asked.

“Something like that, yeah,” she nodded, “but I’d like to get a map so that I will be sure about charting our course.”

“Fair enough,” Alistair nodded, “let’s head into the village whenever you’re ready.”

“Right,” she said before directing a command to Diana, “with me.”

“We are already with you,” Morrigan said, “are we not?”

“Wasn’t for you two,” she replied, “it’s for Annie so that she knows not to wander off.”

“You both seem oddly comfortable with each other,” Alistair pointed out, “considering you haven’t been together for that long… Have you had a dog before?”

“Nope,” she shook her head. She’d had dogs in her past life, sure, but never in this life. Therefore, just in case someone said that she’d never had a dog before, she should go with the answer that would apply to this life.

“You seem to know a lot about caring for them,” Morrigan pointed out, “‘tis hard to believe you’ve never had a dog before.”

“I’ve always wanted one,” she said before employing her favorite tactic, “so I read about them in a book.”

Such a convenient excuse, and if they ever asked what book she’d read it in, she’d just say she forgot.

***

Valendrian held a funeral for Kallian yesterday, and she couldn’t stop crying.

She just couldn’t.

She’d been crying ever since they’d gotten word that she’d died with the rest of the Wardens at Ostagar.

Kallian had always been there for her, always, and she’d gotten her killed.

Her cousin that had always been so warm, and full of life…

And now she was gone, and would never be coming home again.

***

Such a curious creature, Kallian was. Her movements were fluid and graceful, and in a battle, ‘twas clear that she sacrificed neither power nor speed. Indeed, the way she moved was evasive to the point where ‘twould be a surprise if she’d ended up wounded. Even in the Wilds, she had been a treat to watch fight. ‘Twas as if water had been given solid form in the shape of an Elf.

Though, there were aspects of her that reminded her of a cat, if she were a mage, she would probably be able to teach her how to shape-shift into one. She was also grateful that the woman did not mope around as Alistair did, if they’d both moped around she may have gone insane.

She was also grateful that the woman was a competent leader.

If she’d had to deal with two Alistair's, she would have left them to die in the Wilds.

“You there!” a Templar shouted to them as they approached, “if you’re looking for safe shelter, I’ll warn you: There’s none to be found.”

“Oh?” Kallian said.

“Move on if you can,” the Templar replied, “Lothering’s lost.”

“We were just looking for some news,” Kallian explained.

“You might find that, though it’s probably just frightened gossip,” the Templar said, “we’ve had refugees streaming from the south for the last two days. The Chantry and tavern are full to bursting… There simply isn’t enough food to go around, and we Templars can barely keep order. You’d be better off elsewhere, my friend.”

“Can I ask a few questions?” Kallian asked.

“I’m just out here to keep an eye out for Darkspawn,” the Templar replied, “please ask someone else in town. No offense, of course.”

“None taken,” Kallian replied, “is anyone in charge here?”

“The Bann has marched north with Teyrn Loghain, so Lothering’s on its own, most folks look to Elder Miriam,” the Templar answered, “otherwise, you could speak to Ser Bryant in the Chantry, I suppose. It’s up to you.”

“Thank you,” Kallian said politely, before parting ways with him.

Desperation was heavy in the air, she could see it on everyone’s faces.

“Ah, look how they moan and wail and gnash their teeth,” she said sarcastically, “‘tis sad to watch how they helplessly scurry about.”

“Well, it’s just a guess,” Alistair said, “but I’m thinking everyone in Lothering is aware of the approaching Darkspawn horde.”

“Poor sods,” Kallian sighed, “they don’t have anywhere left to go, especially since the Bann has more or less abandoned them to their fate…”

***

She noticed a family of Elves looking destitute, naturally gravitated towards them. She knew how Humans treated her kind.

“Greetings to you, my lady,” the Father said, “if it… isn’t too much to ask, might you be able to spare some bread?”

“What happened?” she asked.

“We thought it’d be safer in Lothering, that they Teyrn would bring his soldiers here,” the Father replied, “but bandits attacked us and took everything! Our food… our clothes… my daughter’s pet lamb... Nobody cares for a few Elves like us, surely you understand.”

“I do,” she sighed before taking out half of what she’d confiscated from the bandits, and handing it to the Father, “here, take this.”

“Thank you,” the Father replied in surprise, “that’s very kind of you.”

“Bless you!” the Mother said, “I knew another Elf would help us!”

“If we don’t look out for each other, who will?” she replied wryly, “in any case, we met those bandits, they’re dead now.”

“You… killed them?” the Father said in shock. Honestly, she didn’t blame him for being surprised, Elves generally made a point of not standing out and killing Humans.

“Yes, we did,” she nodded.

“That’s wonderful news!” the Mother said, “perhaps our belongings are still there!”

“I can’t thank you enough, friend,” the Father said, “even if we don’t get everything back, it’s good to know that others will be safe.”

As downtrodden as Elves are, they still care about others. She wondered what that said about the Humans who abused them. Ah, well, Elves had a strong sense of community, since they were constantly mistreated by Humans. It was a sense of community Humans didn’t share. Elves had to look out for each other, if they didn’t, no one else would. Humans on the other hand? Even the poorest Human was treated better than the richest Elf.

“Mother! Where are you?” a Child called out, and of course, she gravitated towards him. She had an affinity to children, “I’m cold! I don’t like this.”

“What’s wrong, Child?” she asked crouching down to eye level.

“Have you seen my Mother?” the Boy asked.

“You poor thing,” she replied, “did you and your Mother get separated. What does she look like?”

“She’s really tall… and she has red hair, almost like yours, we live on a big farm hold, all of us,” the Boy explained, “some mean men with swords came, and Mother told me to run to the village as fast as I could, so I did! She said she would be right behind me, but I’ve been waiting and waiting and I can’t see her!”

“Do you know where your Father is?” she asked.

“He went with William to the neighbor’s yesterday,” the Boy replied, “but he didn’t come back.”

“Do you want to look for your Mother together with me?” she asked.

“Mother said I wasn’t to go with anyone,” the Boy replied, “I’m supposed to wait for her here in the village.”

“Smart child,” she replied with a kind smile, “go to the Chantry, someone will look after you.”

“I will, but only if I don’t find Mother, first,” the Boy replied, “…so, um… are you really an Elf?”

“Did the ears give me away?” she replied wryly.

“Father says Elves aren’t very nice,” the Boy replied, “but you’re nicer than everybody here… Thank you for helping me.”

“You take care, now,” she said before the Boy left, “and be safe.”

“I’m surprised that did not anger you,” Morrigan pointed out after the child had gone.

“Discrimination like that is taught,” she replied, “I can’t do anything about parents teaching their children to discriminate against other races.”

Even she was taught to be wary of Humans, but she’ll keep that to herself. Sure she’d had a bad run-in with a Human noble, but she’d been a Human in her past life, and she knew better than to judge someone based on their race. In her past life, she’d always judged people by the integrity of their character, not the land from which their ancestors hailed. Nor did she judge people based on their religion, and although she didn’t agree with Andrastian, she still wouldn’t judge with those who practiced their faith.

She noticed a merchant and wondered if he sold shoes that fit her.

“Back off!” the Merchant glowered at a Chantry Sister, “I have the right to charge what I wish!”

“You profit from their misfortune!” the Sister replied, “I should have the Templars give away everything in your carts!”

“You wouldn’t dare!” the Merchant glared, “any of you step too close to my goods, and I’ll—”

“It’s so nice to see everyone working together in a crisis,” Alistair said interrupting them while her instincts raged at her to disappear, “warms the heart.”

“Ho! You there! You look able!” the Merchant said noticing her and she barely kept herself from simply vanishing, “would you care to make a tiny profit helping a beleaguered businessman?”

“Is your profiteering ruffling some feathers?” she asked wishing she could simply vanish. She was making a scene, about to talk back to a Human merchant. Every instinct in her body from both lifetimes were screaming at her to cease, desist, back away slowly, and disappear.

“You could say that, yes,” the Merchant replied.

“The nerve of these people!” Alistair said sarcastically, as she tried to fight against the urge to simply disappear. This was probably something she’d have to get used too.

“He is charging outlandish prices for things people desperately need!” the Sister said, okay, yeah, she needed to do something about this, “their blood is filling his pockets!”

“‘Tis only survival of the fittest,” Morrigan said as she began psyching herself up, “all of these cretins would do the same in his shoes, given the chance.”

“I have limited supplies,” the Merchant replied, “the people decide what those supplies are worth to them.”

“You bought most of your wares from these very people last week!” the Sister said accusingly, “now they flee for their lives, and you want to talk business?”

“Look, stranger, I’ve a hundred silvers if you’ll drive this rabble off, starting with that priest,” the Merchant said, “I’m an honest merchant, nothing more.”

“You don’t think you’re being unscrupulous?” she asked continuing to internally psych herself up. She could do this, yeah, this was a thing she could do.

“Would it help these folk if they could buy no goods at all?” the Merchant replied.

“They spend their very last coin because they are desperate,” the Sister replied, “and this man preys upon them as surely as the bandits outside the village!”

“Bah! I’m not arguing anymore!” the Merchant said angrily, and she needed to choose her words wisely, “drive this woman off and get yer hundred silvers. Otherwise, I’m taking my wagon and leaving!”

“I think you can compromise,” she replied, “and still make a profit, no?”

“Perhaps,” the Merchant sighed, “if that woman agrees I’m allowed to charge _something_.”

“Do what you must,” the Sister replied, “so long as the prices do not beggar the needy.”

“Fine, fine, done,” the Merchant grumbled, “and since you don’t look too needy, normal prices for you.”

“I can abide by that,” she nodded.

“So… we have come to solve every squabble in the village, personally?” Morrigan said, “my, but the Darkspawn will be impressed.”

“Thank you for your generous assistance,” the Sister said, “may the Maker watch over your path.”

She’d rather He didn’t, He’d surely be directing a lightning strike to her face if He was. Seriously though, all she wanted was to see if he had a pair of shoes she could purchase.

He did.

After putting them on, she immediately fell into a cross stance, and already she could feel the difference. That was one less encumberment gone, the only one left was the one inflicted on her by her own emotions and the sheer anger and disbelief in how her life was turning out. The insecurities she’s going through, the inability to fully adapt to the way her life was going. Her discomfort with leading Humans around and making decisions for their group, being in a position of power, getting special treatment… Oh, boy, she’d never be getting herself back to where she had been before her life had lost all reason, would she?

He also had a map, which was definitely handy. Geography had never been her strong suit.

“The Chantry is still running the Chanter’s Board?” Alistair said drawing her out of herself, “now THAT’s dedication!”

“Ah, the Chantry board,” Morrigan said sarcastically, “yes, let us run errands for the betterment of mankind as well as a few coppers.”

She felt her mischievous side kick to life, she’d almost forgotten that her true nature was that of a playful trickster.

“I betcha five coppers I can get the Chanter to deviate from the Chant of Light,” she said.

“You’re on,” Alistair replied.

“‘Twould certainly be most interesting if you could,” Morrigan said.

“And Eileen spoke unto the masses,” the Chanter said as she adopted a cluelessly innocent facade, “‘My hearth is yous, my bread is yours, my life is yours. For all who walk in the sight of the Maker are one.’”

“Uh… Greetings? And who are you exactly?” she asked uncertainly and as expected, the Chanter simply smiled and nodded, “hello? I asked you a question.”

“Let all repeat the Chant of Light,” the Chanter replied, “only the Word dispels the darkness upon us.”

“He can’t answer you,” the Boy next to him said, “he’s Chanter Devons.”

“What’s a Chanter?” she asked playing dumb.

“One of them’s that can only say the Chant of Light, his board has letters of good deeds to be doing,” the Boy replied, “my Father fixed Widow Allison’s roof once and the Chanter paid him, he did.”

“A learned child is a blessing upon his parents and onto the Maker,” Devons replied.

“Soooo it’s like a vow of silence, then?” she asked feigning curiosity, “he can’t talk normally?”

“Unless it’s in the Chant of Light, no,” the Boy replied.

“And so Rajmael in the heathen temple recanted,” Devons said, “‘speak only the Word; sing only the Chant. Then the Golden City is thine,’ spoke Andraste.”

“A Chanter says, what?” she said quickly.

“What?” Devons replied as Alistair tried to hold in a laugh behind her, ah, he was indeed feeling better now. Good.

“Oh! You got him to speak!” the Boy laughed.

“Eeerrrrr What hath man’s sin wrought?” the Chanter said quickly.

“Oh, he cheated!” the Boy laughed.

“Pay up,” she said holding out a hand and Alistair and Morrigan dropped five coppers into it, “thank you kindly.”

“It was worth the five coppers,” Alistair laughed.

“Now, let’s see what’s on the board,” she hummed, “bandits, huh? Sounds easy enough.”

They should probably hit up the tavern first to listen to whatever news there was to be learned.

“So, I take it you did not enjoy your templar training?” Morrigan asked Alistair.

“That’s directed at me, I take it?” Alistair replied dryly.

“Do you see any others about who have failed at their religious instruction?” Morrigan replied.

“I didn’t fail,” Alistair sighed, “I was recruited into the Grey Wardens.”

“And if you had not been recruited?” Morrigan asked, “what would have happened, instead?”

“I would have turned into a drooling lunatic,” Alistair replied, “slaughtered the Grand Cleric and run through the streets of Denerim in my small clothes. I guess.”

“Your self-awareness does you credit,” Morrigan replied with a hint of mirth in her voice.

“I thought you’d like that,” Alistair replied.

D’aww… They’re kind of getting along… They really are somewhat like siblings, though she’d never say it out loud.

“Um, excuse me, miss,” a voice called out to her timidly, “uhh… hello, stranger… I d—don’t suppose you know anyone that can make traps?”

“I know my way around traps and the like,” she replied remembering that one time she used one to pie a Darkspawn in the face.

“Just don’t… pie someone with it this time,” Alistair groaned, “I could do without seeing that again.”

“I could as well,” Morrigan agreed. Oh yeah, she did say that she’d been following them in the Wilds.

“I would… happily pay you to make some,” the Woman replied, “there’s wood, nails, and other goods around the village and the forest… though you probably already knew that… Sorry.”

“No problem,” she shook her head, “I think I have enough materials to whip some up, how many do you need?”

“Three, would be just perfect,” the Woman replied in relief as she began taking out her tools and materials to make them, giving Diana a scratch under her chin before getting to work.

“Here,” she said after putting the finishing touches on the third one.

“Thank you so much,” the Woman replied handing her a small purse of fifty silvers.

“You’re welcome,” she nodded politely accepting the money.

Fifty silvers! 

She got fifty more silvers from helping the Elder out with poultices.

She had six sovereigns!

This was the richest she’s ever been in her entire life!

She’ll leave some money for Shianni when she went back to sneak a letter to her.

“You might not want to go in,” a Man said stopping her from entering the tavern, “tavern’s full, and those soldiers are being a nuisance.”

“Tell us about these soldiers,” she requested.

“They’re not here to defend us, they were looking for someone… before they started drinking,” the Man replied, “I hear they almost killed a man because they didn’t like his face. I wonder if they’re deserters from the King’s army?”

“You seem rather unhappy,” she noted.

“Is there any reason to be happy? With the King dead, them Darkspawn will overrun Lothering before anyone can organize,” the Man replied, “you’d think those soldiers could at least run off the bandits. I hear _someone_ gave them what they deserved. Wasn’t you, was it?”

“N—”

“Yes, that was us,” Alistair nodded cutting off her attempt to deny taking part in it.

“It was? Hey everyone!” the Man shouted and she wished she could disappear, “this is the one who drove out those thieving bastards! More will probably come, but it’s good to know some justice is left here… Thank you.”

In her past life, she was the type of person who’d stick around while winning the jackpot on a game machine but ask it to both shut up and hurry the hell up because she was drawing attention to herself and she didn’t like it.

She overheard people bad-mouthing the Wardens and praising Loghain as she was about to enter the tavern, and barely managed to bodily shove Alistair into the tavern before he said anything stupid. Loghain was clearly spreading propaganda against them.

Except it was out of the frying pan and into the fire.

“Well. Look what we have here, men,” the Captain of the soldiers said and she put a hand on Diana’s head to quiet her, “I think we’ve just been blessed.”

“Uh-oh,” Alistair said as she pulled her gloves out of her back pocket and slipped them on with a sigh, “Loghain’s men. This can’t be good.”

“Didn’t we spend the past week or so asking about an Elf by this very description?” another soldier said, “and everyone said they hadn’t seen one?”

“It seems we were lied to,” the Captain replied.

“Hm? Why are you looking for me?” she asked tilting her head to the side, deciding to put her attire to use, “I’m just an Elven servant of no real consequence.”

“Don’t play dumb with me!” the Captain glowered, “I know you’re one of the Grey Wardens!”

“The Grey Wardens recruit Elves?” she said as she gasped in shock.

Why? Why her? Why her and not Alistair? Was it because Loghain knew her face better? What? Why?

“Gentlemen, surely there is no need for trouble,” a Sister said walking up to them, “these are no doubt simply more poor souls seeking refuge.”

“They’re more than that. Now stay out of our way, Sister,” the Captain replied, “you protect these traitors, you’ll get the same as them.”

“Can’t we talk about this?” she asked.

“I doubt he would listen,” the Sister answered, “he blindly follows his master’s commands.”

“I am not the blind one! I served at Ostagar, where the Teyrn saved us from the Grey Wardens’ treachery! I serve him gladly!” the Captain said indignantly, “enough talk, take the Warden into custody, and kill the Sister and anyone else that gets in your way.”

“Right,” the Soldier said, “let’s make this quick.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” she shouted holding her hands up, “can’t we at least take this outside? Some people are trying to eat in here!”

She ducked beneath a swipe. Apparently, the answer was no. No, they can’t take this outside. Wonderful. Now they were being an even bigger nuisance. 

Right, time to discipline the muscle-brained idiots who don’t care about the people they’re inconveniencing. She unsheathed her daggers and focused the Captain.

Basic rule of thumb: Always take the leader out first. After that, the rest’ll be easier to mop up.

“Alright, you’ve won!” the Captain said and she stopped her blade from cutting into his neck, “we surrender!”

“Back off,” she said directing a command to Diana who ceased her attack.

“Good,” the Sister said, “they’ve learned their lesson and we can all stop fighting, now.”

“The Grey Wardens didn’t betray King Cailan,” she said re-sheathing her weapons, “Loghain did.”

“I was there!” the Captain said, “the Teyrn pulled us out of a trap!”

“Oh? You saw the beacon go up, no?” she sighed as she crossed her arms, “the plan was for Loghain’s forces to flank the Darkspawn upon seeing the beacon. You knew this, did you not? So, how did the Wardens betray the King, when all the Wardens did was follow orders and make sure that the beacon was lit?”

“I… He… You—” the Captain’s words failed him.

“Mhm,” she frowned, “critical thinking, perhaps you should try to do it more, yeah?”

“The Wardens led the King to his death!” the Captain tried to argue, “the Teyrn could do nothing!”

“Mhm, sure,” she sighed before speaking in a commanding tone, grabbing the Captain by the chin and pulling his face down to look him straight in the eyes, “clean this place up, apologize to everyone whose meals you’ve ruined, and reimburse them. They’re escaping from the Darkspawn threat and are already under enough stress, they didn’t need you kicking up a fuss and ruining their meals. Hence, why I asked if we could _at least take the fighting outside you muscle-brained buffoon_.”

“Yes ma’am!” the Captain and the rest of the soldiers said before quickly moving to follow orders after she released the Captain from her grip.

“Honestly, have your parents taught you no manners?” she clicked her tongue frowning at them as she watched them spring into action, “or are the common folk that far beneath you that you don’t care about inconveniencing them?”

“Sorry, ma’am!” they replied.

“Also, take a message to Loghain for us,” she frowned.

“W—What do you want to tell him?” the Captain asked.

“He’ll pay for what he’s done,” Alistair cut in after the initial shock wore off, “we’re coming for him.”

“Yeah, sure, that,” she said.

“I’ll tell him. Right away!” the Captain replied before he and the rest of the soldiers made a quick exit, “now in fact! Thank you!”

“Maker’s breath, Kallian,” Alistair said, “how did you do that?”

“Ahh… uhhh… I… uh…” she froze as she realized what she’d just done. She went too far, she was definitely going to be smot for her insolence, “know how to deal with people…?”

Oh dear, she was doing many of the things she hated doing. Bossing Humans around, sticking out while in the presence of Humans, leading Humans around…

She took a deep breath and held it in an attempt to calm herself down.

“I apologize for interfering,” the Sister said, “but I couldn’t just sit by and not help.”

“It’s okay,” she said holding her hands up, “I appreciate what you tried to do.”

“I am glad you found it in your heart to offer those men mercy,” Leliana replied, “let me introduce myself. I am Leliana, one of the Lay Sisters of the Chantry here in Lothering. Or I was.”

“My name is Kallian,” she nodded politely, “a pleasure to meet you.”

“They said you were a Grey Warden, I’m surprised you’re an Elf, but Elves must want the Blight defeated as much as Humans, no?” Leliana replied, “I know after what happened, you’ll need all the help you can get. That’s why I’m coming along.”

She honestly didn’t blame her for talking about her race like that. She knew how Elves were treated, Ser Jory had also mentioned that Elves weren’t generally allowed in the military. Not only that, but most Elves didn’t know how to fight, how to properly defend themselves. She was in the colossal minority.

Wait, she wanted to come along? She was going to be leading around three Humans? What even was her life now? This whole position of power shit was really freaking her out. How the fuck was she supposed to get used to this? It went against every single one of her instincts. She shouldn’t be leading Humans around, she should be following them around. She was an Elf, Elves were never in charge of Humans. She was brought up to not do any of the things she was currently doing.

She was DEFINITELY about to be smot by the Maker.

But seriously, the world could start making sense any second now.

“Those men were mistaken,” she said blankly, “I’m no Grey Warden. Elves aren’t allowed into the military. I am just a servant.”

Servants didn’t lead two Humans around. She knew it was a stretch, but she could still try.

“But… oh, I see. Of course,” Leliana replied, “shall we move on, my completely ordinary and unremarkable friend?”

“If that’s what you want,” she said, “we do need the help.”

“That and the Maker wants me to go with you,” Leliana said.

“Can you… uh… elaborate?” she asked as she wondered if this would be a good thing or a bad thing. Would having a Lay Sister keep the Maker from smiting her? Or make sure she’d get smot?

“I— I know that sounds… absolutely insane,” Leliana replied, “but it’s true! I had a dream… a vision!”

“More crazy?” Alistair said, “I thought we were all full up.”

“Look at the people here. They are lost in their despair, and this darkness, this chaos… will spread,” Leliana said, “the Maker doesn’t want this… What you do, what you are _meant_ to do, is the Maker’s work. Let me help!”

If the Maker didn’t want this, then why did he allow Blights to begin in the first place?

She’ll keep this to herself.

“Well, we do need all the help we can get,” she shrugged.

“Perhaps your skull was cracked worse than Mother thought,” Morrigan sighed.

“Morrigan, we are four people against the Blight, Loghain, and whatever else is happening,” she said, “ _we need all the help we can get_.”

“Four? I thought we were three plus a dog,” Alistair said and Diana growled angrily, “right, four, sorry.”

“Thank you!” Leliana said brightly, “I appreciate being given this chance. I will _not_ let you down.”

“I’m hard to let down,” she replied wryly before swiftly turning to Morrigan, “… wait, did you just say my skull was cracked?!”

“Indeed, it was,” Morrigan replied.

“…You know, I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d written me off as a lost cause,” she said as she took her gloves off and stuffed them into her back pocket, “and just left me for dead.”

“Mother insisted we save you as well,” Morrigan replied.

She had a feeling she was forgetting something.

***

Kallian was pestering the Tavern owner about current events, asking him about rumors he’d recently heard, resting a hand on Diana’s head as she sat next to her. Honestly, Kallian had shocked her, immensely. She wasn’t dressed in armor as she’d expected, she looked more like a servant than anything, and she fought in a way that she’d never seen before in her entire life.

“Kallian is a strange sort, isn’t she?” she said looking to Alistair and Morrigan.

“She really is,” Alistair agreed without a second thought.

“An Elven woman bossing around grown men, soldiers even!” she said, “it was a shock, even to me.”

“I’ve never seen anyone fight the way she does as well,” Morrigan added.

“I haven’t either,” Alistair nodded.

“That makes three of us, then,” she said as they watched Kallian get stopped by someone who was apparently from the Blackstone Irregulars.

***

He seriously didn’t know what to make of his fellow Warden. She was polite, charismatic, and clearly at home leading. He’d also truly never seen anyone fight like her before in his whole life. Her movements were graceful, and elegant, but still swift, precise, and powerful. She also reminded him of a cat, as she always hopped on the top of rails and fences as they passed by them. Everything about her was odd, from the way she fought, the way she carried her weapons, the way she dressed, and the way she carried herself.

“I feel like I’m forgetting something,” Kallian said narrowing her eyes at him.

“Okay? Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.

“Because I have a feeling it has something to do with you,” Kallian replied, “so I’m trying to see if looking at you will help me remember.”

“Is it working?” he quirked a brow.

“No,” Kallian shook her head with a sigh.

“What did the tavern keeper say?” he asked.

“Mmm… he basically said that Ferelden’s going to shit,” Kallian replied, “Loghain’s being praised as a hero, blah blah blah… That kind of stuff. Also, there’s something going down in the Brecilian Forest, the Mage Tower, and possibly Orzammar.”

“Wonderful,” Morrigan rolled her eyes.

“Right?” Kallian sighed, “we’ll have our work cut out for us.”

***

Seventy-Five silver for making three vials of venom?!

Holy fuck! She was rich!

Seven sovereigns!

She was up to seven sovereigns!

She was definitely leaving a few sovereigns for Shianni when she went back, she’ll have to leave something so that Shianni knows that it really was her… Maybe one of her hair ribbons? She had a spare one, but it was black, and she preferred her white one. She thought it went her hair better, so that would definitely be a good choice to leave behind. Any sacrifice to make Shianni stop blaming herself was well worth it. She could probably just buy a new hair ribbon, she certainly had the money to.

She heard some chanting in a foreign language while on their way to deal with the bandit problem that had been described on the Chanter’s board. Sounded like someone was chanting a Sutra. The only sutra she knew was the Heart Sutra, and that was only because it was made into a pop song. Buddhism wasn’t her jam, it wasn’t the flavor she wanted to be spread upon the toast that was her previous life… Which in hindsight, was also now toast.

Puns.

“You aren’t one of my captors,” the Man said, and holy shit was he huge, “I have nothing to say that would amuse you, Elf. Leave me in peace.”

He was tall enough that he’d make a fantastic portable landmark. Every short person knows that tall people are just portable landmarks in a sea of short people. ‘Where are you?’ ‘I’m by the really really really tall guy.’.

“You’re a prisoner?” she replied, “who put you here?”

“I’m in a cage, am I not?” the Man replied, “I’ve been placed here by the Chantry.”

The Chantry! They were supposed to go to the Chantry to find Ser Donall for Alistair! That’s what she was forgetting!

Or one of the things she’d forgotten, anyway.

Depression did cause memory problems. So did anxiety, and stress, actually…

Stupid chemical imbalances in the brain.

“The Revered Mother said he slaughtered an entire family,” Leliana explained, “even the children.”

She wasn’t exactly the most innocent person either. She slaughtered an entire castle’s worth of guards, both on and off duty, as well as all of their dogs.

She should probably not tell Diana that.

“It is as she says,” Sten replied, “I am Sten of the _Beresaad_ — the vanguard— of the Qunari peoples.”

“My name is Kallian,” she nodded politely, “pleased to meet you.”

“You mock me, or you show manners I have not come to expect in your lands,” Sten quirked a brow, “though it matters little, now. I will die soon enough.”

“I was raised to mind my manners,” she replied simply. In both lives, being polite and minding her manners were a huge thing, the her of her past life abhorred the thought of both inconveniencing people, as well as being rude. The her from this life was raised to mind her manners because she was raised to eventually be a servant. Also because you didn’t know who would end up shanking you for being rude. She was still an Elf, after-all.

“This, is a proud and powerful creature, trapped as prey for the Darkspawn,” Morrigan said, “if you cannot see a use for him, I suggest releasing him for mercy’s sake alone.”

“Person, Morrigan,” she chastised, “he’s a person. Not a creature.”

“Forgive me, Sten,” Morrigan sighed and she nodded.

“Mercy?” Alistair quirked a brow, “I wouldn’t have expected that from you.”

“I would,” she replied.

“I would also suggest that Alistair take his place in the cage,” Morrigan replied.

“Yes, _that’s_ what I would have expected,” Alistair sighed.

“I suggest you leave me to my fate,” Sten said.

“How long have you been stuck in here?” she asked.

“Twenty days, now,” Sten answered, “I shouldn’t last much longer. Another week at most.”

“Are you interested in seeking atonement?” she asked. 

They were now five people against the Blight, and according to the Tavern owner, there was a lot of weird going on in Ferelden, and they needed every bit of help available. She also needed to seek atonement, though, with the amount of suffering and pain she’d delivered upon those she loved, there wasn’t enough atonement in the world that would set her straight. She’d loved her friends, she’d loved her family, she’d loved her life, and yet she’d destroyed it all with her own hands. And what was the point of it? There wasn’t any. She’d been too slow to save Shianni. Her entire life, she’d always been too slow. Too slow to save Nelaros, too slow to save Shianni, too slow to save her Uncle and Aunt… Too weak to save her Mother… After her Mother had died, she’d made a vow to herself that she’d never be too weak, too slow again. And yet there she was, far too late to either help or save anyone.

Part of her knew that wasn’t true, that she’d saved people, but in her spiral of despair, none of it mattered. What mattered, was that she’d been too slow and too weak to save any of the people she’d cared for most.

“Death will be my atonement,” Sten replied.

“It won’t,” she shook her head, “and there are other ways for you to redeem yourself.”

“What do you mean it won’t?” Sten quirked a brow.

“You simply dying won’t fix anything, it won’t change anything, it won’t bring those you’ve killed back,” she replied, “if you’re going to die, you might as well die while trying to _do_ something.”

Hence why she didn’t simply off herself. She’d hoped to sacrifice herself to the guards to protect her community and those she loved. She hoped to die during the Joining, so she could at least say that she _tried_. She hoped she’d die saving Alistair since at least she’d die trying to save someone… Or rather, saving someone.

“I see,” Sten replied, “then what does your wisdom say is equal to my crime?”

“You could help us defend the land against the Blight,” she replied.

“The Blight?” Sten asked, “are you a Grey Warden, then?”

“Alistair and I are, yes,” she nodded gesturing to both herself and Alistair.

“Surprising,” Sten replied, “my people have heard legends of the Grey Wardens’ strength and skill… though I suppose not every legend is true.”

“Things are rarely as they seem,” she shrugged she knew she wore no armor, she didn’t blame anyone for not seeing her as someone who knew how to fight, “would the Revered Mother let you free?”

“Perhaps if you told her the Grey Wardens need my assistance,” Sten replied, “it seems as likely to bring my death as waiting here.”

“We’ll be back, then,” she said.

“Farewell, then,” Sten replied.

***

_"If you’re going to die, you might as well die while trying to do something."_

He wondered if she were speaking from experience when she had said that. But what would Kallian have done to warrant her needing to seek atonement? For her to feel the need to redeem herself? From what he’d understood about his fellow Warden, she was polite and endlessly kind, and it wasn’t just a front she put up. You could tell that she meant every word she’d spoken, every kind gesture. So what did she feel the need to redeem herself for?

Actually, what led to her joining the Wardens? She didn’t seem like the type that would want to join the Wardens at all. What made Duncan decide to recruit her?

He could ask, but he had a feeling that she wouldn’t answer.

And he was hiding something from her as well.


	13. How the Cat Secured a Somewhat Stable Income

A Grey Warden.

The Elven servant who’d talked to him a few minutes prior was a Grey Warden, or at least that was what she’d claimed to be. 

Did the Grey Wardens recruit women? Why would they recruit women? Why would women desire to bear arms?

There were also her words:

_"You simply dying won’t fix anything, it won’t change anything, it won’t bring those you’ve killed back. If you’re going to die, you might as well die while trying to do something."_

There was wisdom in those words.

So what was she doing in a role that required her to fight?

***

While they backtracked towards the Chantry, to look for Ser Donall, as well as the Revered Mother, she inquired about the whereabouts of Patter Gritch. Who, apparently, was also in the Chantry.

How convenient.

The Chantry wasn’t the only thing she’d forgotten, she knew that, but she couldn’t remember the other thing she was supposed to tell Alistair. It was almost like she walked into the kitchen. Except instead of a kitchen, she’d walked into Lothering.

“The legions of evil are on your doorstep! They will feast upon our hearts!” she heard a voice shouting as they neared the Chantry, “there is nowhere to run! This evil will cover the world, like a plague of locusts!”

“Please!” a Farmer begged, “you’re scaring the children!”

“Better to slit their throats now than to let them suffer at Darkspawn hands!” the Man replied before turning to her, “there! One of their minions is already amongst us! This woman bears their evil stench! Can you not see the vile blackness that fills her?!”

Stench? Vile blackness? She was a bit of a clean freak, especially since poor hygiene was one of the reasons the Bubonic Plague was so effective at killing people. The Jewish community had gotten the memo of ‘practice proper hygiene’ and the illiterate Europe didn’t, and thus persecuted the Jewish community because they weren’t falling to the plague. They really got the short end of the stick an alarming amount of times throughout history. They’d been persecuted so many times it was mind-boggling, from Ancient Egypt to Medieval Europe, to the Crusades, and of course… The Holocaust. She couldn’t help but admire how hardy they were.

Wait a minute, Elves were mistreated throughout history here. They were slaves, there was an Exalted March, she lived in a segregated community…

Then again, Elven history also reminded her strongly of Hawaiian History, and how brutally their sovereignty was torn from them. The March on the Dales kind of reminded her of that… She kind of wanted to sing _Aloha ‘Oe_ , but doing so out loud would be bad, she wouldn’t be able to explain the sounds coming out of her mouth. Maybe… if she just mentally sang it?

Oh no, she was being moved to tears by her past life, better rein herself in.

“Why don’t you keep your voice down,” she said soothingly. He was being a nuisance in a public space, but he was clearly riled up. 

But he was being a doomsayer… doom-shouter? 

Whatever, he was scaring people and she needed to shut that down.

“I watched the black horde descend on my people!” the Man shouted, “I will not be silent!”

“P—Please! Stop!” a Farmer cried, “somebody shut his mouth!”

“But isn’t he right?” Another Farmer said, “the Bann left us! We’re going to die!”

“ _This_ minion is but the first of those who will destroy us!” the Man continued shouting, and honestly? Even _she_ thought that she was more likely to be their doom than their salvation.

“You poor man,” she said softly, to try and bring him to her volume, to calm him down, “what happened to you?”

“My family, my clan… those creatures butchered them all,” the Man replied softly, “some of us fled here, but we cannot escape the Darkspawn!”

“It must have been horrible,” she replied it was working, he was being pulled into her rhythm, “how did you escape?”

“I… ran, hearing my wife’s screams as they dragged her off,” the Man sobbed, “she had hair… the same color as yours.”

“Scaring these people won’t bring her back,” she replied.

“You… you are right,” the Man sighed before leaving, “I will go.”

Great success.

“He was right, wasn’t he?” a Chantry Brother said, “there’s no hope for us…”

“There is always hope, always, even when you can’t see it, it’s still there,” she said, “muster up your courage. There is always something you can do.”

“You’re right,” the Brother replied, “we can’t give up!”

“But… we can’t fight!” one of the Farmers said, “what are we supposed to do?”

“A wise man once said ‘if you think you’re too small to make a difference, try sleeping with a mosquito’,” she recounted borrowing words from the Dalai Lama, “and you’re farmers, correct?”

“Yes,” one of the Farmers replied.

“Farmers have sturdy bodies, and well-distributed muscles,” she pointed out, “and in any case, anything is a weapon if you know how to use it right. The world is what you make of it, whether you simply lay down and die, or stand and fight is your choice. Lots of farming tools are made sturdily and have sharp edges. Do you know what else has sharp edges? Weapons.”

“Are you telling us to use our farming tools as weapons?” one of the Farmers asked.

“Yes, that is exactly what I’m telling you to do,” she nodded, “getting used to using a sword is a waste of time, just use what you know how to use. Like a shovel, you can use it to gouge _and_ slice... They also have fairly good reach.”

It was true, in her old world, many fighters were just farmers empowered to see that the tools and skills they used in their day-to-day could also be used as combat maneuvers.

“She’s right!” the first Farmer said, “we can’t lie down and die. For now, we must go north, to Denerim!”

“The Darkspawn will truly be impressed,” Morrigan rolled her eyes after the group left, “with how you’ve come to solve every squabble in the village.”

“If I see a bunch of soldiers running around wielding shovels,” she said, “I think I’d be able to die happy.”

“Kallian,” Alistair said.

“Hm?” she tilted her head to the side.

“Who ARE you?” Alistair asked.

Uh oh… did she go too far again?

She probably did, but empowering people was important to her. Giving hope to people who’d lost it was important to her. It’s always been important to her. Soothing frayed nerves, calming people down, helping people… Just because _she’s_ lost her way, didn't mean they needed to. Just because _she_ gave in to despair, didn’t mean they had to. This was the kind of person she was, the kind of person she’d always been. If she could stand as the gatekeeper between hope and despair… Maybe she’d be able to face those she’d lost in the afterlife with pride.

Still, she was standing out amongst Humans. She should rein herself in a bit more. Too bad she couldn’t will her existence out since she was in a leadership role, and it would be terrible if she just up and vanished on them.

Then again, it might be funny… Watching them freak out while she quietly watched the mayhem.

“No one of any real consequence,” she shrugged as she moved to enter the Chantry.

“It is good to see you again, Sister Leliana,” A Templar said stopping them.

“Thank you, Ser Maron,” Leliana replied.

“Who’s in charge of this Chantry?” Kallian asked.

“The Revered Mother runs the Chantry itself,” Ser Maron replied, “and Ser Bryant heads the Templars stationed here.”

“Why didn’t anyone do anything about the bandits that were on the highway?” she asked with a frown.

“Were?” Ser Maron asked in shock, “did you drive them off? Ser Bryant will appreciate that.”

“Something like that,” she replied, “has there been any news coming into Lothering?”

“Not since Teyrn Loghain passed by with his army,” Ser Maron frowned, “it’s a shame about the King, but with the Darkspawn coming, few can think of anything else.”

“Thank you for your time,” she said politely before entering the Chantry.

“Maker watch over you,” Ser Maron replied.

“You as well,” she said politely. 

She still wished He wouldn’t, but whatever.

Wait, is He what was keeping her out of a dark and dingy dungeon? Because if so, she wished that He would stop. Someone like her should be left to rot, not save the world. She was far more likely to fuck everything up and cause the end of it than save it. Everything else she did failed, so why wouldn’t this fail either?

After entering the Chantry, she hummed as she looked around, she hadn’t been inside of a Chantry in forever, she was only Andrastian in the way that she paid lip-service to the Maker to get people off her back about it, honestly. She also didn’t really want to get lynched for rejecting Him, that would have been terrible, especially since she didn’t like standing out. Not only that, but Elves weren’t really allowed out of the Alienage, and Humans would rather they not enter the Chantry.

Ooooh, a book about the First Blight…

Let’s steal it. She’s already broken her Mother’s biggest cardinal rule, which was to not enter Duncan’s sight, what was another?

Actually, maybe she shouldn’t steal it, yeah, let’s not steal it. She didn’t want this type of thing to become a habit, it also felt wrong to steal something from a religious temple thing. So she just took note of the title of the book and its author, a name she’d seen multiple times since she’d already read a few of his books. 

Wait… Wasn’t Brother Genitivi mentioned in the note they’re delivering to Ser Donall?

***

_"No one of any real consequence."_

She wasn’t sure how true that was, she hadn’t even known her for half a day, and she could tell that there was something about Kallian that drew people to her. She was beautiful, sure, but there was something more to her, something that drew you in. She was incredibly charismatic, it made her wonder what her life was like, before becoming a Warden. Though, she also wondered just how long she’d been a Warden.

“I see you have returned, Sister,” Ser Bryant said as they approached, “I thought you had left the Chantry for good.”

“I have, Ser Bryant,” she replied.

“And who is the lady with you, if I may ask?” Ser Bryant asked looking towards Kallian.

“My name is Kallian,” Kallian said politely, “pleased to meet you.”

“I am Ser Bryant, Commander of Lothering’s remaining Templars,” Ser Bryant nodded, “you don’t seem like the other refugees. Are you one of Arl Eamon’s knights?”

“Do many of his knights come?” Kallian asked.

“Some have, in recent days, Arl Eamon has fallen ill, and his knights are on a quest for the sacred urn filled with Andraste’s ashes, said to cure any malady… He must be very ill if they chase miracles as the only cure,” Ser Bryant answered, “one of the Arl’s knights, Ser Donall, is here searching for fantasies while... Never mind, ask him if you care about this foolishness.”

“Arl Eamon is sick?!” Alistair said.

“We’ll go to Redcliffe as soon as we can, promise,” Kallian promised, “but first, we need to get things to make traveling there easier.”

She really wasn’t sure how true Kallian’s claim of her being no one of any real consequence was, she was clearly knowledgeable and experienced in many different things.

“Why had no one done anything about the bandits outside the village?” Kallian asked.

“Maker’s breath!” Ser Bryant sighed in exasperation, “how many times must we drive them off?!”

“Well, at least you won’t have to deal with them any longer,” Kallian replied.

“All of them?” Ser Bryant asked in shock, “by yourself?”

“Don’t mind us,” Alistair said, “we’re clearly just chopped liver.”

“Depending on how it’s prepared,” Kallian said, “liver can taste pretty good.”

“What? Really?” Alistair asked in shock.

“Yeah, it’s pretty healthy for you, too,” Kallian replied, “not eat every day, kind of healthy, too much of a good thing can still be a bad thing, but it’s got high nutritional value.”

“How do you know all of this?” Alistair asked.

“I used to have a very different kind of lifestyle,” Kallian shrugged, “than the one I do now.”

She remembered that Kallian had said that she was simply an Elven servant, and it made her wonder just how her life would have turned out if she hadn’t become a Warden.

“It’s true, Ser Bryant,” a Templar said interrupting them, “I saw it from my post. It was over so fast we didn’t even have time to get over there.”

“Sad that it needed to come to that, but then they asked for it,” Ser Bryant replied, “will you accept a small reward for your service?”

“Oh! If we weren’t in need of funds,” Kallian said sheepishly, “I’d say no.”

“Truly?” Morrigan sighed, “you are the most well-meaning person I have ever met.”

“I think it’s a good thing,” she said, “I think kindness is necessary in these trying times.”

“If it interests you, there is a Chanter’s board outside full of quests that need doing,” Ser Bryant said, “the Chanters even offer to pay for some of them.”

“Yep, we’re going to hit those up soon-ish,” Kallian replied brightly.

***

He saw Ser Donall standing over a table reading a book a bit aways from Ser Bryant, and he did have questions for him, as well as things to give him.

“Who…?” Ser Donall said as he approached, “I beg your pardon, I did not see you approach.”

“Ser Donall,” he said, “it’s you, isn’t it?”

“Alistair? By the Maker, how are you?” Ser Donall replied, “I… I was certain you were dead!”

“Wasn’t even close, thanks to the efforts of my fellow Grey Warden,” he replied gesturing to Kallian, “we are the last two in Ferelden, as far as I know.”

“He was almost the last,” Kallian added, “but, thanks to two-kind hearted souls, I managed to also escape with my life.”

He heard Morrigan snort, and he didn’t blame her. Kallian had just called both her and her Mother kind-hearted souls. Then again, they could have left her for dead and only saved him, so to her they were kind-hearted souls. She’d even said that she wouldn’t have blamed them if they’d just left her for dead. He was grateful that they’d put the in the extra bit of effort to ensure that she’d survive, but he still hated Morrigan.

“Terrible news, indeed,” Ser Donall replied, “pleased to meet you, my lady. Might I know your name?”

“My name is Kallian,” Kallian nodded politely, “it is a pleasure to meet you.”

“I trust you are staying discreet?” Ser Donall asked, “with the bounty placed on your heads?”

“We’ve heard Loghain’s accusations,” he replied, “but he’s the one who betrayed the King!”

“I… uh… schooled some of his lackeys,” Kallian said sheepishly, “in the ways of critical thinking.”

“You schooled them in more ways than that,” Leliana pointed out, “you also told them that they should mind their manners.”

“If Arl Eamon were well,” Ser Donall sighed, “he’d set Loghain straight soon enough.”

“So you’re here looking for the Urn of Sacred Ashes, then?” he asked.

“I am, indeed,” Ser Donall replied, “Andraste’s ashes are said to cure any illness. But I fear we are chasing a fable. With each day, my hope dims.”

“We were hoping to meet with Arl Eamon,” he said.

“Why is that,” Ser Donall asked, “if I may ask?”

“We need his help against Teyrn Loghain,” he answered.

“I see, the Arl is a popular man, it’s true. Teyrn Loghain, however, is a hero throughout Ferelden,” Ser Donall replied, “whatever the Teyrn has done or not done, the Arl remains ill, or worse. That is my primary concern.”

“I’m ninety-nine point nine percent sure,” Kallian said after glancing around and lowering her voice to an almost whisper, “that it’s Loghain’s fault.”

“But the Arl fell ill before the King died,” Ser Donall whispered back in shock, “but what if Loghain planned that, too? Ah, such thoughts do not sit well with me.”

“What makes you so sure?” he narrowed his eyes at Kallian.

“It is not wise to speak of it here,” Kallian replied.

Kallian knew something, he was sure of it, though he didn’t know exactly what she knew. Only time would tell, they have more important things to accomplish for now. Such as preparing the necessary equipment and such to travel to Redcliffe, which she seemed to be occupied thinking of at the moment. He wanted to go to Redcliffe, and she was making it happen. He could pester her about what she knew about Loghain later.

“Regardless, we should see what’s happening in Redcliffe ourselves,” he sighed, “I believe that now more than ever.”

“If nothing else, I am certain you would be welcomed at Castle Redcliffe,” Ser Donall said, “the Arlessa is there, and she could tell you more than I could.”

The Arlessa… Hated his guts, last he checked.

“So your quest brought you here?” Kallian asked.

“I expected to take advantage of the Chantry’s library, in fact,” Ser Donall replied, “but my skills are better suited to battle than chasing down tales.”

“Mine are actually better suited to chasing down tales,” Kallian noted dryly, “rather than battles.”

“…I can believe that,” Leliana replied.

“Do you know what the Arl’s symptoms are?” Kallian asked.

“I’m afraid not,” Ser Donall shook his head with a sigh, “as I’ve said: the Arlessa can tell you more than I.”

“Fair enough,” Kallian sighed, “what have you found out about the Urn?”

“If you’re truly interested, there are books here containing a great deal of lore, nothing I have found leads me to believe that this was anything more than a quest of desperation,” Ser Donall replied, “I intend to return to Redcliffe soon and tell the Arlessa exactly that, once Ser Henric arrives.”

“About Ser Henric, he’s dead,” he said taking the locket and note from his pack, “we have something from him.”

“What?! And you have his locket? And a note?” Ser Donall said in shock before sighing, “Maker’s mercy… Thank you for giving me these. I would never have known otherwise.”

“We’ve dealt with the bandits who killed him,” he replied.

“Thank you,” Ser Donall sighed, “I wonder how many of us have met similar fates on this mad quest.”

“I hate to be the bearer of even more unfortunate news,” Kallian said, “but could you please send a message to Ser Jory’s wife, Helena, in Highever for us? He passed away, during the Battle of Ostagar.”

Kallian just lied to Ser Donall, about Ser Jory, though, it was probably for the best. His wife didn’t need to hear that he really died because of his lack of courage, and that was probably her thought process.

“Ser Jory did?” Ser Donall sighed sadly, “I will… and with Henric gone, I need to return to Redcliffe. Perhaps later I will seek out the scholar his note mentions… But I must go.”

“We’ll be heading that way shortly,” he said, “after we finish some things up in Lothering.”

“We’ll probably see you there,” Kallian nodded.

“Thank you again, Alistair, and Kallian,” Ser Donall replied, “you both have been most helpful.”

“May the Maker watch over you,” he said.

“You as well,” Ser Donall replied before leaving.

***

My lady, and lady.

She got called my lady and lady.

What the fuck? Like, what the actual fuck? 

This whole position of power and special treatment thing felt wrong in every single way, and the more it happened the more uncomfortable it made her feel. Especially when it escalated to being called lady and my lady, as if she were someone incredibly important.

How did her life become this?

Oh, right, it’s because she fucked up. She ruined everything like the idiot that she was. How can she be expected to save the world if she can’t even save herself?

She should probably tell Alistair about her suspicions about Loghain and the Battle of Ostagar, but she didn’t want to do it in a public space like this. She didn’t want to commit lèse-majesté like that in an open space like this. Even though she’d already done so in the Tavern, but it’d be best if they didn’t commit it in an open space more than they needed to.

“Fools,” Morrigan scoffed, “praying for help from a prophet they burned and a god who has turned His back on them not once, but twice.”

She could chastise Morrigan about insulting the beliefs of others, but it probably wouldn’t do anything other than annoy her, therefore, there’d be no point to it. It’d be a waste of energy.

“You ever wonder if that’s an accurate likeness of Andraste?” Alistair asked, “maybe She was ugly, maybe She had buck teeth. How would we know?”

“Beautification of deceased heroes is a pretty common practice,” she replied, “but the point of it being there is to make people feel like She’s watching over them.”

“How foolish,” Morrigan scoffed again.

“If it’s what grants them inner peace and inner strength,” she replied, “then that’s all it needs to do. That’s its only function: to give people a sense of peace. Some people need that, to feel like someone’s looking out for them.”

She found Patter Gritch and handed him the letter from the Blackstone Irregulars, and with a sigh, he departed.

“You… Miss,” a Templar said stopping Morrigan, “what is your name? You… seem quite odd to me.”

“You would not be the first to think so,” Morrigan replied, “but avert your eyes. I will not have you staring overlong.”

“Best get used to it,” the Templar replied, “I’ll be watching you— we want no trouble here.”

“We don’t want any either,” she said moving in front of Morrigan, “however, if you continue to stare at her with hostility, I may be driven to act in order to secure her safety. No woman appreciates being stared at like an object.”

“I— that’s not what—” the Templar sighed, “very well.”

Holy shit was she an idiot. 

She just stood out again. Apparently, she’d forgotten her race. She should DEFINITELY expect a lightning strike to the face the next time it stormed. Especially since she’d stood up against a servant of the faith that she’d more or less rejected. She already had her own beliefs, and Andrastian didn’t mesh well with it.

Protecting those she cared about was second nature for her anyway, denying that would be denying part of who she was, and as it was, she’d already lost so much of herself it was heartbreaking.

Right, time to talk to the Revered Mother and see if she could convince her to release Sten.

“Good day, Sister Leliana,” the Revered Mother said as they walked up to her, “I’m surprised to see you’re still in Lothering.”

“It is good to see you as well, Your Reverence,” Leliana replied.

“I do not recognize your companion,” the Revered Mother said to her, “greetings. Will you be making a donation to the Chantry? Our need has never been greater.”

Urgh… a tithe… but it was the least she could do. Especially since she was going to free Sten…

Actually, why didn’t she just pick the lock open?

Holy fuck she was dumb.

“Here is thirty silver,” she replied taking out the twenty silver she’d gotten from Ser Bryant plus ten. She could practically _hear_ Morrigan rolling her eyes in exasperation.

“Thank you, dear woman,” the Revered Mother said accepting the money, “what can I do for you, then?”

“I wanted to talk about Sten,” she replied, “the Qunari you’ve imprisoned.”

“It might have been kinder to execute him, but I leave his fate to the Maker,” the Revered Mother said standing up to pace a bit, “why does he interest you?”

“Is there any way I can convince you to release him?” she asked.

“Then his next victims might count you and me as their murderers,” the Revered Mother replied.

“I was thinking you might release him into my custody,” she replied.

“And what do you say on this, Leliana?” the Revered Mother asked turning to Leliana, “you know your friend better than I.”

Leliana’s only been with them for a few hours…

“These are… unusual times, your Reverence,” Leliana admitted, “with us, the Qunari might do some good. I am sure of it, in fact.”

“Were things not so desperate… very well, I trust you,” the Revered Mother said handing Leliana the key, “take this key to his cage, and Maker watch over you.”

“Thank you, Your Reverence,” Leliana replied before handing her the keys, “your trust is not misplaced.”

She led them out of the Chantry and back to Sten’s cage.

***

He had his doubts that he’d achieve his freedom, though the Elf did return, and was once again standing outside of his cage, eyeing the lock with a frown.

“You wish something more of me?” he asked.

“I have the key to open your cage,” Kallian said holding up the key.

“I confess,” he replied, “I did not think the priestess would part with it.”

“She agreed to release you into our custody,” Kallian replied.

“So be it,” he replied, “set me free, and I will follow you against the Blight.”

“Very well,” Kallian replied unlocking the cage, “there you go.”

“And so it is done,” he said, “I will follow you into battle, and in doing so, I shall find my atonement.”

“Thank you, Sten,” Kallian grinned, “glad to have you with us.”

“May we proceed?” he asked, “I am eager to be elsewhere.”

“Do you want something to eat and drink first?” Kallian asked holding out some bread and a waterskin, “you were in that cage for a while.”

“…You have my thanks,” he said taking them.

“No problem,” Kallian grinned.

Was she truly a Grey Warden? It seemed as though she’d missed her true life’s calling.

“Right,” Kallian sighed pulling a pair of gloves out of her back pocket and slipping them on, “time to deal with some bandits.”

***

They’d dealt with the bandits, and she’d barely managed to keep herself from screaming and running in the opposite direction when she saw those… things with too many… parts…

Those things should not be that big. Why were they that big? What the fuck? She cussed out every god she could think of because _they should not be that big._ And she knew a lot of gods, she was a side helping of Shinto, plus mythology was a pretty big interest for her in her past life, so she cussed those out too.

“Soo… Kallian,” Alistair said slowly, “about those sp—”

“Don’t you dare even so much as name them,” she glared, “I am murderously afraid of them.”

“Murderously… afraid?” Alistair raised a brow.

“If they come near me,” she replied, “I will slaughter them with a violent rage.”

“Right, sorry,” Alistair replied, “guess that explains why they were killed twice as fast as everything else and more viciously than everything else.

“Yes,” she replied, “and you’d fucking better be.”

They returned to the Chanters board and her eyes went wide when she got the reward.

THREE SOVEREIGNS?!

That was the most she’d ever been paid for a Chanter’s Board request!

After pawning off the loot they’d gotten from the bandits they’d killed, they decided to call it a day, as the sun was about to set. They used the money they got to buy some bedrolls for the time being and hunkered down a little ways outside of the village. Sten likely wouldn’t be accepted in either the Chantry or the Tavern, so they started up a fire and made do with what they had.

She could not believe how much coin she earned from the day. They’d split the earnings from the Chanter’s board, but at the end of the day, she was still up to ten sovereigns despite their purchases. Which to her, was absolutely crazy and mind-blowing.

“What are you writing?” Alistair asked.

“A letter,” she replied.

“To?”

“My Mother,” she answered finishing up her letter apologizing for the fact that she did the one thing she was never supposed to do, before folding it up into a crane. After some thought, she’d realized that writing to the Mother of her previous life was useless: she was fairly certain that her Mother was still alive. It wouldn’t surprise her if all of her grandparents were still alive, either. Her family-line had longevity and youth in their genes.

If she hadn’t been fucked over by the gods of that world, she’d probably still look twenty despite being in her…

She gave up, she hated mental math. But it was unimportant because no one in her family looked even remotely close to their age.

“That’s an interesting way of folding it,” Leliana said.

“Paper art is pretty neat,” she replied before flying it into the fire. She couldn’t call it origami, that word was meaningless here.

“What? Why did you burn it?” Alistair asked, “I thought you were writing it for your Mother.”

“I burned it so that I can be sure that it reached her,” she said watching the fire consume her crane, “my Mother passed away a while ago… I’d started writing her letters and burning them as a coping mechanism.”

“…Can I have a piece of parchment, please?” Alistair asked and she handed him one.

“Do you wanna talk about Duncan?” she asked.

“Not… not quite yet,” Alistair sighed.

“Alright, take your time,” she replied before turning to the others to decide watch order, she generally took last watch so that she could cook breakfast so that they could at least start their day with a good meal.

She’ll ask him again when there isn’t that much of an audience.

***

He rendezvoused with some of Loghain’s men, who’d left Lothering in a hurry. From them, he’d learned that the Elven woman, Kallian, was indeed the more dangerous of the two remaining Wardens. Though he didn’t learn much, other than she’d soundly beaten them, insulted their intelligence, and then bossed them around as if she were their Mother.

His interest was definitely piqued. 

But then who wouldn’t be interested in an Elven woman who could boss full-grown soldiers around? And not only that but apparently she was leading around two Humans?

Granted, he had doubts on how accurate the poster was. He sincerely doubted she looked that pretty, and since Loghain told him to focus on her, he had some suspicions about it.

She could be a romp he regretted having, or something.

Then again, his men did say that she was the more dangerous of the two…

Ah, well, he supposed he would find out soon enough.

***

_Smoke was in the air._

_The heat of the flames and the smell of charred corpses assaulted her senses._

_On her right, she saw the faces of her Mother, her Aunt and Uncle, Nola, Nelaros, and King Cailan staring at her with accusatory stares._

_On her left, she saw Shianni, her Father, Soris, and Valendrian staring at her in disappointment._

_She raised her weapons to block the attacks launched at her, gritting her teeth as she attempted to deflect, dodge, and block. The Woman knew everything she could do, did everything she could… and she did it better than she did. The woman knew and accepted everything about herself, but she didn’t. She still couldn’t believe everything that had happened to her, she still wanted to deny it. With herself so damn off-kilter she stood no chance. She still didn’t want to face the fact that she’d truly lost control, that she’d truly become a monster._

_And once again she was staring up at that white oni mask._

_“I know,” she sighed, “I know I’m weak and worthless.”_

_“Then FACE it,” the woman snarled._

She frowned as she saw the new requests on the Chanter’s Board.

“What’s wrong?” Leliana asked.

“This one,” she said pointing to the request, “I talked to that boy…”

“Ah, yes,” Morrigan said, “the child who told you that his Father had told him that Elves weren’t nice.”

“Yes, that one,” she sighed, “I suppose… his Mother never showed up.”

There were displaced wolves surrounding a body, and they immediately sprung into action. That body was likely the Mother’s and she’d be damned if they took her body away. After recovering the keepsake, they were attacked by the bears mentioned on the other request from the Chanter’s board and took care of those too.

They finished their preparations to leave Lothering and start heading to Redcliffe and started towards the Imperial Highway to start on their way to their next destination.

“We done heard what was said, you’re a Warden,” a Refugee said stopping them, “I don’t know if you killed King Cailan, and Maker forgive me, I don’t care… But that bounty on your head could feed a lot of hungry bellies. Attack!”

Both she and Diana kept bodily shoving the others out of the way before they landed a finishing blow on the refugee and instead knocked them out. They were desperate, they wanted to be able to feed their families and their community, and that was something that spoke to her on a primal level. They knew they might be innocent, but they’d been pushed so far that they’d taken up arms that they weren’t used to in order to attempt to feed those they cared for. Community had always been important to her, in both lifetimes.

Thankfully, Leliana and Alistair got the hint pretty early and after she delivered a series of attacks to their pressure points, knocked them out.

Thank the heavens she remembered meridians from her past life, she didn’t want to hit their heads.

She heard Morrigan sigh in frustration as she left four sovereigns with their unconscious bodies. She still had six left from everything she’d sold and the work they’d done around the village, and they clearly needed it more than she did. 

Also, she couldn’t help it, she’d always lived with _aloha_.

***

Kallian was _the_ kindest and most well-meaning person she had ever met in her entire life, and she couldn’t even call her a fool because the woman was still smart about the way she did things. Especially with how she was careful enough to not let news about her and Alistair being Grey Wardens spread too much.

Everything about her reeked of kindness and compassion, and normally, that would put her off. But for some reason, Kallian’s kindness and compassion did not bother her, and she couldn’t figure out why that was. ‘Twas a strange thing, if it were Alistair or Leliana doing the deeds that Kallian had, she would have immediately called them fools and idiots, but when Kallian did it, she found that she did not feel the need to insult her overmuch. Something else about her that surprised her, was how she’d stood between both her and that Templar in the Chantry like it were second nature.

She still had no idea how the woman seemed to easily get along with her Mother, then again, Kallian seemed to easily get along with _everyone_. Something she didn’t think was possible, and wouldn’t think possible if she had not witnessed it herself.

Still, she should make a note to never turn into a spider while in Kallian’s presence.

***

It would take about a week to get to Redcliffe, according to some of the people she’d asked. Traveling like this was still weird, she’d probably get used to it in time, but for now? It was still so far removed from the norm that it still felt weird. She’d never been big on camping in her previous life. All she knew how to do, was live in a city. Though she was both grateful and sad about the lack of cars, on one hand? Being in a car for longer than an hour made her feel sick, on the other? She wasn’t used to walking so much.

Though, she often felt like Alistair and Morrigan’s Mother with how often she mediated between the two as they bickered like siblings. If they were in a car, she’d probably threaten to turn it around.

“Away with you foul creatures!” she heard a voice call out, “leave us alone!”

Her gloves were on and she was running, and weapons drawn, she leapt down from the rail she’d been running on. She felt flecks of their black blood and decided that she needed to increase her wardrobe, and also that she should have done her laundry while they were in Lothering. 

She really needed to get her life together. Well, at least she was getting used to fighting with others, and that was one of the biggest things she’d been worried about.

“Mighty timely arrival there, my friend,” one of the Dwarves said, a merchant, she thinks, “I’m much obliged.”

“No problem,” she replied.

“The name’s Bodahn Feddic, merchant and entrepreneur,” Bodahn said introducing himself and his son, “this here is my son, Sandal. Say hello, my boy.”

“Hello,” Sandal said.

“Road’s been mighty dangerous these days,” Bodahn said, “mind if I ask what brings you out here? Perhaps we’re going the same way.”

“It’s a bit complicated,” she admitted, “but you’re welcome to come along.”

“Complicated?” Bodahn laughed, “somehow, I imagine that only says half of it.”

“Something like that,” Alistair said.

“Thank you for the offer, but there may be more excitement on your path than is good for my boy and me,” Bodahn replied, “allow me to bid you farewell and good fortune.”

“For you as well,” she said with a polite nod.

“Good-bye,” Sandal said.

“Now, then,” Bodahn said as they began continuing on their way to Redcliffe, “let’s get this mess cleaned up, shall we?”

They continued along the Imperial Highway, trying to make as good time as they could before setting up camp again.

“You were in the Chantry,” Sten said to Leliana, “you are a priest?”

“No, no,” Leliana clarified, “I was a Lay Sister of the Chantry.”

“Which means?” Sten asked.

“I lived and worked in the Chantry,” Leliana replied, “but I did not take any vows.”

“So you… dabbled in priesthood, then?” Sten asked.

“Oh no,” Leliana shook her head, “the Lay Sisters don’t have the same sorts of duties as priests at all.”

“So you were not a priest, did none of their duties, and took no vows,” Sten replied, “but you lived among them?”

“Yes!” Leliana nodded.

“You… were a house guest of the Chantry?” Sten asked.

“Umm,” Leliana replied, “sort of…”

“Looks like the sun’s going down,” she said, “we should set up camp for the day.”

After dinner she blankly stared at the fire thinking about her last dream. The accusatory stares as well as the looks of disappointment… That was probably the worst one yet.

She missed her family. She’s seeing and experiencing a lot of new things, but honestly? She’d rather be back in the Alienage being idiots with her cousins.

“Hm?” she said noticing movement, “is that… Bodahn?”

“Ah! It’s good to see you, my timely rescuers!” Bodahn said, “Bodahn Feddic at your service once again.”

“Hello again, Bodahn,” she replied.

“I saw your camp and remembered the kind offer you made the last time we met, and is there anywhere safe for a poor merchant and his son to sleep? I think not,” Bodahn replied brightly, “I’m perfectly willing to offer you a fine discount for the inconvenience of our presence. How does that sound? Good? Yes?”

“Well, I certainly don’t see why not,” she chuckled, “would you be willing to help us cart around our camping equipment?”

“Of course!” Bodahn replied.

“And… sell my wares at the villages we pass by for a cut of the profits?” she asked seriously.

“What kinds of wares?” Bodahn asked clearly catching her drift.

“Mmm… Textiles, mostly,” she replied, “clothes, blankets, handkerchiefs, bags, baskets… I can also make medicines and such.”

“It’s a deal!” Bodahn replied and they shook on it.

And with that, she’d secured them something of a stable income, she was quite confident in her skills as a tailor and apothecary.

This was fantastic news, and she couldn’t help but pump her fist happily.

***

He heard Kallian tossing and turning.

“Ugghh,” Kallian sighed tiredly as she sat up and lazily lifted up a hand as Diana walked into her so she could be pet.

“Bad dreams, huh?” he asked.

“Not as bad as usual,” Kallian replied leaning her head on Diana’s head while still petting her, “but just as tiring, sure.”

“What do you usually dream about?” he quirked a brow.

“It’s best not to talk about it,” Kallian waved her sleeve around before yawning, “must have been something I ate.”

“Drank, more like,” he pointed out, “as in the tainted blood, remember?”

“Whoa, I thought that was supposed to be a secret, Alistair,” Kallian said wryly, “granted, I don’t actually care if we keep it one or not. I believe that people should actually know what they’re getting into before they get into it.”

“Right, well, I’d like to keep it one,” he coughed.

“Fair enough,” Kallian nodded, “you are the Senior Warden, so I’ll abide to that.”

It felt weird to be called that when he’d left most of the leading up to her.

Though, he would like to talk to her about Duncan at some point. She seemed to know a lot about coping with loss, and that was something he needed. He could also probably stand to know more about his fellow Grey Warden, she completely confounded him. Actually, she completely confounded everyone they were traveling with.

Well, except for Diana.

“Anyway, you see, part of being a Grey Warden is being able to hear the Darkspawn,” he explained, “that’s what your dream was: hearing them… The Archdemon, it… ‘talks’ to the horde, and we feel it just as they do. That’s why we know this is really a Blight.”

“Why didn’t Duncan just tell everyone that?” Kallian sighed in exasperation.

“He did. He said he felt the Archdemon’s presence,” he replied, “everyone just assumed he was guessing.”

“This is why secrets like this work to the detriment of a goal,” Kallian groaned in frustration, “secrets are all well and good, until a _country_ stands on the precipice of _annihilation_ because of _idiotic obstinacy_ that’s _unwilling_ to inform people of the truth. If Loghain had actually _known_ and had a _reason_ to believe that it wasn’t just a guess, _we might not even have to be here_.”

“Finally!” Morrigan groaned, “a true voice of reason!”

He hated to admit it, but she was right. If Loghain _had_ actually known what was truly at stake, they might not be having these issues.

“It’s common sense!” Kallian frowned, “then again, in his paranoia, he might have assumed we were in league with Orlais and staging a coup.”

“In any case, it takes a bit, but eventually you can block the dreams out. Some of the older Grey Wardens say they can understand the Archdemon a bit, but I sure can’t,” he replied, “anyhow when I heard you thrashing around, I thought I should tell you. It was scary at first for me, too.”

“Thanks, Alistair,” Kallian replied, “I appreciate it.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he replied brightly, “to deliver unpleasant news and witty one-liners.”

“Looks like the sun’s coming up,” Kallian said standing to get started with her morning routine, “I’ll get started on breakfast so we can pull up camp and get a move on.”


	14. How the Crow Met the Cat Who Left His Fate Up to the Dog

She really wished she had a copy of the _Tao Te Ching_ , but she didn’t so she’ll have to try and make do with her shoddy memory… Let’s write down what she remembers in a journal so she can look at it later. Actually, why didn’t she just do that ages ago?

She picked up a quill, an empty journal and began writing the few excerpts she remembered:

_Those who understand others are intelligent_  
_Those who understand themselves are enlightened_  
_Victory over people is being powerful_  
_Victory over self is being invincible_  
_Those who know contentment are wealthy_  
_Those who proceed vigorously have willpower_  
_Those who do not forget their principles endure_  
_Those who die but are not forgotten live on._

She could write more later, they’d only stopped to eat lunch, and they still had to go to Redcliffe.

“Hmm, Alistair,” she said as they began walking again, something had been bothering her since last night, “I have a question.”

“What’s up?”

“Why do we have to physically alter our bodies to become Grey Wardens?”

“…You know, I wondered that myself. I asked Duncan but all he said was ‘you’ll see’.”

“…I see,” she sighed and bit the nail of her thumb in thought.

When they reached Denerim, she’d have to stop by a book store to do some research. There had to be a bigger, more important reason behind it than just being able to sense them. Not only that, but the Deep Roads were Dwarven territory, and they didn’t all become Grey Wardens in order to fight the Darkspawn. There was another reason, another secret, and her gut told her that she _needed_ to figure out what it was. If they were to end this Blight, she _needed_ to know what was behind this reasoning.

“Do you have any ideas?”

“No clue I’m afraid, but if I figure anything out, I’ll think about telling you.”

“…Just think about it?”

“No promises whether I’ll actually tell you or not,” she replied, “by the way, lemme know when you wanna talk about Duncan, I’m not going to push it.”

“Will do,” Alistair replied, “by the way, Kallian?”

“Hm?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re like a cat?” Alistair asked.

“Oh, thank the Maker I’m not the only one who thinks that!” Leliana exclaimed.

“I do as well,” Morrigan replied, “if she were a mage, she would surely be able to turn into one.”

“My nickname in the Alienage,” she said raising up both her hands and clenching them to look like paws, “was that of a dumb cat.”

“Dumb? How are you dumb?” Alistair asked.

“As a child,” she replied, “there were times where I’d accidentally get stuck in crates and barrels.”

“…How?” Sten asked.

“By miscalculating distances between myself and said crate or barrel,” she replied, “I like high places, so I used to climb onto rooftops a lot, so when jumping down, I’d accidentally end up stuck in a crate or barrel. Sometimes I hid in them while playing hide-and-seek and just fell asleep. At some point, I began just liking being in the quiet space of a crate, sometimes I took naps in them, sometimes I just liked curling up in them to read a book… I can’t fit comfortably fit inside of a barrel anymore though, too cramped.”

“Kallian… Why did Duncan recruit you?” Alistair asked seriously.

“It pisses me off to think about,” she said with the deepest frown she could muster, “maybe I’ll tell you later.”

With Bodahn’s help, they should be able to make it to Redcliffe ahead of schedule, which was good news. Alistair’s been antsy about Arl Eamon ever since they’d heard the news. Hopefully, she could get more information on his symptoms and work out an antidote if it were a poison, or medicine if it were an illness.

She should make a note to get to know her companions more… Yeah, she’ll talk to them tonight.

“Oh, thank the Maker! We need help!” a Woman shouted running up to them, “they attacked the wagon, please help us! Follow me! I’ll take you to them!”

She quirked a brow as she watched the woman run away.

“Shouldn’t we hurry after her?” Alistair asked.

“Nah,” she shook her head, “she’s not even in any real danger. It’s a trap… Too bad we’re stuck on this road and can’t just go a different way.”

“It’s a trap?” Alistair asked, “how do you know?”

“How could I not know?” she asked, “she’s defying common sense. In fact, if it weren’t a trap, then it’d be an insult to the world’s common sense that she survive. If she were in any real danger, she would cower behind us and point in the direction of the attack, not run towards them without being sure that we’d follow. Though, it’s still a pretty shit trap. If I were whoever planned to ambush us, I would send three people who actually looked roughed up and afraid, and had them cower behind us so that they could assault us on two fronts. Strategically speaking, that would increase their chances of success and put us at a huge disadvantage.”

“I’m still confused as to why Duncan recruited you,” Alistair said, “but I’m grateful that he did so.”

“That makes one of us,” she grumbled quietly.

“What?” Alistair asked.

“Noooooothing,” she replied fetching her gloves, “ah, well, all we can do is walk forward I suppose… At a leisurely pace, of course.”

***

The woman he’d sent forward as bait was now standing around awkwardly while they waited.

…Were they even coming?

He frowned at the woman, who simply shrugged.

He didn’t come here to succeed, but it still didn’t feel good to have to wait like this.

“Oh my goooooooosh!” he heard a voice laughing, “no waaaaay! You did not!”

“It’s true!” another voice giggled, “I did!”

…This _really_ didn’t feel good.

And all he could do was sigh, until they finally saw them, they could finally spring their trap, and sent the tree falling to block their escape path.

And he wondered if the soldiers and Loghain were telling the truth, the Elven woman wasn’t even wearing armor, she looked more like a servant than anything. Though, the poster was indeed inaccurate: it did her no justice.

“The Grey Warden dies here!” he shouted as they locked eyes, every ounce of mirth that may have once been there was gone. 

The last thing he saw was the mole under the emerald eyes of a cold-blooded ruthless killer.

***

Kallian’s knack for strategy bordered on the obscene, as did her overall fluid mobility on the battlefield. If he hadn’t seen her in action, he would have continued to believe the woman a simple Elven servant. It was strange to see someone in these lands not wear armor into combat, but she did not seem to need too. Her opponents were both armor and shield for her as she masterfully manipulated them into blocking their own comrade's attacks for her. He wondered where she’d learned to fight, he’d never seen someone move as she did.

It made him remember the words he’d spoken to her when they first met: that his people had heard legends of the Grey Wardens’ strength and skill, and about how he’d said that he supposed not every legend was true. In regards to Kallian, that was clearly not the case, she held more skill and power than he’d given her credit for.

He had no doubt, that if she were to join the Qun, she would have found herself in a high-ranking _Ben-Hassrath_ position.

“One of them is still alive,” Leliana said.

“I would certainly hope so,” Kallian replied pulling a braided cord from one of her pouches and tying the thumb of the Elf’s right hand to the pinkie of his left, “I only knocked him out… He’s their leader, I wanted to see if we could get information.”

“Is that all you’re going to do to tie him up?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s all I need,” Kallian nodded, “it traps his arms in an awkward position, not only that but keeps him from grabbing anything.”

“Kallian,” Alistair said, “who ARE you?”

“No one of any real consequence,” Kallian shrugged taking out a piece of paper and began folding it in half, and folded it again into a square, “I used to help out at the apothecary’s in the Alienage, and also spent time helping out at the healers… I am multi-talented.”

“Clearly,” he nodded as she held her folded paper in a peculiar way, lifted her arm up, and then did a sharp downward stroke.

***

He woke up to the sound of a loud bang.

“Kallian… are you just a master of paper?” someone above him asked, a male voice.

…Paper? That loud sound came from paper?

“Mwa-ha-ha,” who he assumed to be Kallian laughed.

“I did not know how interesting a simple piece of parchment could become,” another female voice said, “‘tis certainly interesting to see.”

“Mmmm… what? I… oh…” he groaned, “I rather thought I would wake up dead… Or not wake up at all, as the case may be. But I see you haven’t killed me yet.”

He was tied up in a rather odd way.

“Emphasis on ‘yet’,” Kallian smiled brightly a hand on her Mabari.

“Are all Elves the same upon waking up from almost death?” one of the voices from earlier asked.

“I’m fairly certain he’s having a better time than I was. I just hit one of his pressure points,” Kallian frowned gesturing to him and then herself, “I took a bunch of arrows and also, apparently, suffered a cracked skull.”

…A bunch of arrows and a cracked skull? And she was still alive? 

Could this woman even _be_ killed?

“…Your skull was cracked?” another more gravely voice said in mild surprise, “and yet you still live? Impressive.”

“Right? Apparently, some people really don’t know how to stay dead… or actually die, I suppose,” Kallian shrugged before changing her stance to stand feet shoulder-width apart, and cross her arms in front of her chest, “anyway, we have some questions.”

“Ah! So I’m to be interrogated? Let me save you some time,” he replied, “my name is Zevran. Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Grey Wardens. Which I have failed at, sadly.”

“I’m rather happy you failed,” Alistair said.

“So would I be, in your shoes. For me, however, it sets a rather poor precedent, doesn’t it?” he replied, “getting captured by a target seems a tad detrimental to one’s budding assassin career.”

“…What are the Antivan Crows?” Kallian asked blankly, and he could not believe his ears.

“I can tell you that. They are an order of assassins out of Antiva. Very powerful, and renowned for always getting the job done… so to speak,” the Red-Headed Woman replied, “someone went to great expense to hire this man.”

“…I’m going to sound really stupid here,” Kallian said and he _really_ couldn’t believe his ears, “but… where was Antiva again?”

“YOU DON’T KNOW WHERE ANTIVA IS?!” a man he recognized as Alistair shouted and he noted Kallian jump slightly.

“Geography’s never been my strong suit,” Kallian shrugged.

“First, you don’t know anything about the Grey Wardens,” Alistair counted off his fingers, “then you don’t know the Antivan Crows… and now you don’t even know where Antiva is?!”

“My ability to retain information on things that either aren’t in line with my interests, or don’t directly pertain to my life is, basically, no it _is_ nonexistent,” Kallian declared proudly, “military organizations aren’t really an interest of mine, I never planned on leaving Denerim, and I also never planned on becoming important enough to warrant assassination. Therefore, I deemed all of that information as unimportant, and promptly forgot all of it.”

“And yet here you are,” he said dryly.

“Indeed! Jokes on me!” Kallian replied, and he honestly had no idea what was happening anymore, “in any case… you came all the way from Antiva?”

“Not precisely,” he answered, “I was in the neighborhood when the offer came. The Crows get around, you see.”

“So, did Loghain hire you to kill us?” Kallian asked with a frown.

“The rather taciturn fellow in the capital?” he replied in thought, “yes, I believe so… He also told me to make sure you at least died.”

“What? Kallian, do you know why?” the Red-Headed Woman asked.

“No, I’m afra—” Kallian who had been in the process of shaking her head completely froze, “ah, no, wait, yeah… Sorry, I lied. I do know.”

“What? Why?” Alistair asked.

“Mmm… It’s what I forgot to tell you,” Kallian explained, “Loghain realized I’d seen through him when the beacon went up. So, of course, he’d see me as the larger threat… You see, the truth is: he’d never intended to respond to the beacon in the first place. The Tower's complete lack of defense despite it being for a vital role strongly indicated this, especially considering that he knew Darkspawn came from underground and that lower chambers had been found in the Tower. Add into the equation the fact that the Darkspawn had been there for at least a few hours, logic dictates that, quite frankly, he was hoping that the beacon would never light, since it would have given him the excuse of saying that he couldn’t help the King because the beacon never went up, and so he’d pulled his forces from Ostagar after seeing it as a lost cause. Which is why I had us light the beacon: I wanted people to witness that it did indeed get sent up and that something was amiss.”

“HOW DID YOU FORGET TO TELL ME THAT?!” Alistair shouted and Kallian covered her ears a little.

“Very easily it seems!” Kallian replied brightly, “but why are you just telling us all this?”

He really had no idea what was happening anymore. 

She wasn’t anything like how he expected, granted, she did indeed seem to be the larger threat of the two remaining Wardens… 

She was also far more interesting than he’d anticipated. Appearances aside, she was charming, witty, and charismatic.

And he was realizing that perhaps he didn’t want to die, just quite yet. She was such a curious woman, that a large part of him wanted to know more about.

“Why not?” he replied, “I wasn’t paid for silence. Not that I offered it for sale precisely.”

“Do you have no loyalty to him?” Kallian quirked a brow.

“No, not really,” he replied, “I was contracted to perform a service.”

“When were you supposed to see him next?” Kallian asked.

“I wasn’t. If I had succeeded, I would have returned home and the Crows would have informed your Loghain of the results, well… if he didn’t already know,” he replied, “if I had failed, I would be dead. Or I should be, at least as far as the Crows are concerned. No need to see Loghain then.”

“ _If_ you had failed?” Alistair asked.

“What can I say? I’m an eternal optimist, although the chances of succeeding at this point seem a bit slim, don’t they?” he laughed, “no I don’t suppose you’d find that funny, would you?”

“I don’t get it,” Kallian stared at him blankly, “and a slim chance is still a chance… I feel like I was just telling my Father that the other day…”

“How much were you even paid?” Alistair asked as he noticed Kallian’s entire demeanor begin shifting again, regaining that cold-blooded look.

“I wasn’t paid anything. The Crows, however, were paid quite handsomely, or so I understand,” he replied keeping an eye on her, currently, Alistair was keeping him alive, “which does make me about as poor as a Chantry mouse, come to think of it. Being an Antivan Crow isn’t for the ambitious, to be perfectly honest.”

“Then why are you one?” Kallian asked, even the quality of her voice was different, it sent shivers down his spine.

He would have to choose his words carefully here if he wanted to not only escape with his life but also get into her good graces. Which was something he found himself wanting quite strongly. He had no illusions, she could kill him quite easily. But there was a quality to her that drew him to her… It was something he’d strongly felt the second they’d locked eyes. Before then, he thought her interesting, sure, but there was something else there that he didn’t know what was.

“Well, aside from a distinct lack of ambition, I suppose it’s because I wasn’t given much of a choice. The Crows bought me young. I was a bargain, too, or so I’m led to believe,” he decided to appeal to her maternal instincts, as well as those they’d shared, considering that they were both Elves, “but don’t let my sad story influence you. The Crows aren’t so bad. They keep one well-supplied: wine, women, men… Whatever you happen to fancy. Though the whole severance package is garbage, let me tell you. If you were considering joining, I’d really think twice about it.”

“Thanks, I’ll take that under advisement,” Kallian replied, her demeanor still hadn’t shifted back.

“You seem like a bright girl,” he replied, “I’m sure you’ve other options.”

“Well, that’s all I wanted to know,” Kallian said and he saw her begin to lift her weapon, “so without furth—”

“Then unless you’re quite stuck on cutting my throat or something equally gruesome,” he said quickly interrupting her, “perhaps you’d care to hear a proposal?”

“Make it quick,” Kallian sighed in annoyance.

“Well, here’s the thing: I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit. That’s how it works. If you don’t kill me, the Crows will,” he said, “thing is, I like living. And you obviously are the sort to give the Crows pause. So let me serve you, instead.”

There was a slight shift in her expression, she began furiously blinking her eyes and shook her head slightly and then huffed a sigh.

“Kallian,” Alistair said, “are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m not good at this whole switching back and forth thing,” Kallian replied pinching the bridge of her nose and her demeanor finally switched back, “can we expect the same amount of loyalty from you?”

“I happen to be a very loyal person. Up until the point where someone expects me to die for failing,” he replied noting that she had issues switching back to not killing him, switching to killing him, however, was much easier, “that’s not a fault, really, is it? I mean, unless you’re the sort who would do the same thing. In which case I… don’t come very well recommended, I suppose.”

“That’s not a fault, no,” Kallian sighed, “and what’s to stop you from finishing the job later?”

“To be completely honest, I was never given much of a choice regarding joining the Crows,” he replied deciding to continue to appeal to her maternal instincts and shared race, “they bought me on the slave market when I was a child. I think I’ve paid my worth back to them, plus tenfold. The only way out, however, is to sign up with someone they can’t touch… Even if I did kill you now, they might kill me just on principle for failing the first time. Honestly, I’d rather take my chances with you.”

“Won’t they just come after you?” Kallian quirked a brow.

“Possibly, I happen to know their wily ways, however,” he replied, “I can protect myself, as well as you… Not that you seem to need much help. And if not… well, it’s not as if I had many alternatives to start with, is it?”

“You must think I’m royally stupid,” Kallian frowned.

“I think you’re royally tough to kill, and utterly gorgeous,” he replied honestly, he knew that she could switch back to that cold-blooded killer easily and needed to keep choosing his words carefully, “not that I think you’ll respond to simply flattery. But there are worse things in life than serving the whims of a deadly sex goddess.”

“Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha,” Kallian laughed monotonously, “and why would I want your service, exactly?”

“Why? Because I am skilled at many things, from fighting to stealth and picking locks,” he replied, “I could also warn you should the Antivan Crows attempt something more… sophisticated… now that my attempts have failed. I could also stand around and look pretty, if you prefer. Warm your bed? Fend off unwanted suitors? No?”

“Is this before or after you stab me in the back?” Kallian asked.

“Tsk… These things you say,” he replied, “they must drive the men back home simply _wild_.”

“Not really,” Kallian replied monotonously after he noticed something unreadable pass through her eyes, “I’d been dubbed the headstrong trouble-making woman who brought more trouble than she was worth.”

He couldn’t believe that. 

He really couldn’t believe that what sorts of idiotic men would pass-by someone like her?

“Well, what shall it be?” he replied, “I’ll even shine armor. You won’t find a better deal, I promise.”

“And what do you want in return?” Kallian asked.

“Well, let’s see… being allowed to live would be nice,” he replied finally seeing that this was going his way, for the moment, anyway, “and would make me marginally more useful to you… And somewhere down the line, if you should decide that you no longer have need of me, then I go on my way. Until then, I am yours. Is that fair?”

“Hmmmm,” Kallian tapped her chin in thought before turning to her Mabari, “I dunno, Anya, what do you think?”

…She was trusting her dog with his fate?

“You’re trusting your dog with this decision?” Alistair asked.

“Yes, because dogs have good instincts and are good judges of character. In fact, in general, dogs are incredibly perceptive. They’re also pack animals with a strong need to protect their pack, if she thinks he’s a threat to me, she will _not_ hesitate to kill him. The only reason she backs off someone who’s already threatened me is because I tell her to, but she won’t abide by it a second time, if he tries anything she’ll straight-out ignore me and kill him anyway,” Kallian replied as her dog huffed at Alistair in disgust, “right? The nerve… I can’t believe he’d just deem your opinion as unimportant…”

“Didn’t you just meet her three weeks ago?” Alistair asked, “how are you two already so in-tune with each other?”

“You just wouldn’t understand,” Kallian replied looking at Alistair with pity before moving to undo his bindings and slipping the cord back into her pouch, “very well, we accept.”

“What?! You’re taking the assassin with us now?” Alistair balked, “does that really seem like a good idea?”

“Don’t worry, cats trump crows,” Kallian replied.

“You’re not an actual cat, you know,” Alistair frowned.

“Alistair… I don’t know if you’ve realized this yet… But I hate unnecessary violence and bloodshed,” Kallian frowned, “and with how shitty that trap was… I feel like if we don’t bring him with us, he’ll die.”

“You’re a rather cruel woman,” he sighed, he had a feeling that she’d seen through him, “did you know that?”

“I do have a bit of a messed-up personality,” Kallian replied, “so you’re not wrong there.”

Kallian offered him a hand to help him stand, but as he took it, he saw a mischievous glint in her eye and was promptly dropped back down.

And he was treated to the sight of her hysterical laughter.

“…Kallian… what?” Alistair asked in shock.

“My true nature is that of a playful trickster, with a penchant for mischief and mayhem, and a love of laughter,” Kallian after calming down and extending her hand again, “sorry, but I needed that, so thank you, and I promise I won’t drop you this time.”

She didn’t, though he could tell she wanted too.

“I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you, until such a time as you choose to release me from it,” he said with a bow, “I am your man, without reservation… this I swear.”

“A fine plan, but I would examine your food and drink far more closely from now on, were I you,” the Raven-Haired Woman replied.

“That’s excellent advice for anyone,” he replied brightly.

“Don’t worry, Morrigan,” Kallian replied snapping her fingers into a thumbs up, “I suffer from the Apothecary’s Crux.”

“The Apothecary’s Crux?” Alistair quirked a brow.

“High tolerance to poisons, but at the same time also high tolerance to medicines,” Kallian replied, “they’re basically two sides of the same coin.”

He’d never heard of this before, but then perhaps the Crows didn’t care to discuss it since it dealt in saving lives, and not ending them. It seemed that Kallian’s goal was to save people, the direct opposite of his… yet she knew how to make use of her skills in both ways, to save lives and as well as deal death.

How interesting.

“How do you know so much about medicines and the like,” Alistair replied, “and not know where Antiva is?”

“Medicines and such directly pertained to my life,” Kallian replied, “of course I’d remember them.”

“Welcome, Zevran,” the Red-Headed Woman said, “having an Antivan Crow join us sounds like a fine plan.”

“Oh? You are another companion-to-be, then?” he grinned, “I wasn’t aware such loveliness existed amongst adventurers, surely.”

“Or maybe not,” the Woman said quickly, prompting Kallian to cover her mouth to keep herself from laughing.

“So, Kallian,” Alistair said, “did Duncan recruit you because you played a trick on him?”

“I WISH!” Kallian practically shouted, “at least that would have been funny!”

“Kallian,” the Red-Headed Woman said.

“Hm? What is it Leliana?” Kallian replied, ah her name was Leliana, then.

“What else can you make with paper?” Leliana asked as Kallian walked back to the fallen tree.

“A lot of things, I can make animals, flowers, and even functional things like containers,” Kallian replied as she inspected the fallen tree and then angrily clicked her tongue, “honestly, did you not think about the traders and such you inconvenienced with your shit trap? Help me move this.”

He was beginning to see how Loghain’s men had felt that they’d been scolded by their Mother… 

Granted, he never knew the woman, but he had a feeling that it would be something like this.

***

After clearing the way for Bodahn to move his cart in, they continued towards Redcliffe, Diana staring at Zevran, practically daring him to do something. With all of this dealt with, she could allow her mind to ponder just exactly what her life even was right now. Diana would keep him in check, she was sure of that. She hadn’t been lying, Diana _would_ outright demolish him if he tried anything, though, at the moment, she was a being a figurative and literal bitch. Quite honestly? She didn’t think he would try anything if he’d really wanted to kill them, he’d have planned a better trap. Or not even an ambush, really.

Though, this also confused her a bit: if he was from an infamous guild of assassins whose services cost so much… Why would he plan such a shoddy trap? The only explanation she could think of was that he didn’t want to survive the encounter.

Ah, he was like her then, wanting to die, but then realizing, that perhaps he didn’t want to die after all.

She just realized that his accent sounded Italian, and followed that realization up with how Leliana’s accent sounded French. So, what? Were the Crows like the Mafia? She wondered if he moved his hands a lot when he spoke, as Italians have a tendency to do. But seriously, what was even happening anymore? Assassins? From Antiva? What she did remember about Antiva was that it had weather that would appeal to her inner Island Girl.

She was hungry, and she hated that her appetite was increasing, she’d worked so damn hard to slow down her metabolism because the larger her appetite was, the more her wallet would shrink. Which was terrible, especially considering the fact that she’d lived in poverty: she’d never had the funds to sustain such a way of living. Especially if she wanted to have other things she wanted to buy, she had to keep track of her funds. Make sure she had enough to continue to be able to purchase the things she needed, and only be able to treat herself once in a blue moon.

“Ugghhh,” she groaned, “I just remembered Alistair’s on cooking duty tonight.”

“I think I shall be skipping dinner tonight,” Morrigan replied.

“That’s fine with me,” Alistair replied, “more for us.”

“Urgh…” she winced, “not sure if that’s what I wanted to hear.”

“Is Alistair’s cooking that bad?” Leliana asked.

“It’s… borderline edible,” she said bluntly, “I’m more concerned about Alistair accidentally poisoning us than I am about Zevran purposefully poisoning us.”

“Hey! It’s not that bad!” Alistair replied.

“It is,” Morrigan replied, “it really is.”

“So I may not be the best cook,” Alistair replied, “but are you saying my cooking is less trust-worthy than the assassin?”

“That is exactly what we’re saying,” both she and Morrigan said in unison.

“Kallian,” Sten said.

“Hm?” 

“I would like to see a demonstration of your abilities,” Sten said seriously.

“Huh? Why?” she asked blankly.

She was worried that this would come up one day. This world didn’t have her concept of fighting, nor did it truly have her concept of living in general. _Aloha_ meant nothing to the people here, despite it still meaning everything to her.

“You fight in a way I’ve never seen before,” Sten replied.

“I was just thinking that!” Leliana said, “the only times I’ve seen your martial prowess is in battle… but you move in such a unique way.”

“I thought so as well!” Alistair agreed.

“‘Tis most interesting to watch,” Morrigan said.

“Oh? Does she fight in a special way?” Zevran asked clearly trying to ignore Diana staring at him.

“‘Tis like watching water come to life in the form of an Elf,” Morrigan said, “‘tis graceful and elegant, but swift, sharp, and powerful.”

“…That’s right,” she sighed, “Morrigan would be the only one who’d been able to actually observe me fighting without also being in battle with me.”

“I find myself a tad curious as well,” Zevran said, “as I was immediately knocked out.”

She doubted she could talk her way out of this, well, if they wanted a demonstration, might as well go all out. She’s gotten better at marrying both styles together. Granted, she’ll still have to make do with the fact that both she and her religion still weren’t on speaking terms yet.

“Basic strategy,” she replied, “you were the one leading them, therefore I wanted to prioritize being able to question you, so I knocked you out first.”

“When did you study strategy?” Sten asked.

“I never did, I mainly use common sense, and I’m good at dealing with people,” she replied, “so I guess it just worked out that way.”

The skills and abilities she’d nurtured in order to help people, in order to save people were currently being used to kill… A fitting punishment for the fact that she’d lost control of herself, for the fact that she killed people with her own hands in anger and rage…

…Maybe she should cook tonight, she wasn’t really in the mood for Alistair’s cuisine, she should also start to making some things for Bodahn to sell. So much to do so little time.

“Ugggggggggghhhhhhhhhh,” she groaned in frustration, “Alistair, why can’t you be a better cook?”

“Will you be taking over cooking duty, tonight, then?” Morrigan asked.

“Yeah, I really don’t want to eat Alistair’s cooking tonight,” she replied with the deepest frown she could muster, “but the next time he’s on cooking duty, I’m going to be supervising him with an iron fist.”

“What?” Alistair replied, “why?”

“Because your cooking is an insult to the ingredients,” she replied angrily, “it’s an insult to the animals that died in order for us to eat meat, and an insult to the vegetables that had parts of them amputated in order for us to consume them.”

“Plants don’t feel pain,” Sten said.

“Just because you can’t hear it screaming,” she replied flatly, “doesn’t mean that it’s not. Anything that’s alive has a way of saying ‘hey, please stop hurting me’.”

In her past life, scientists used finely tuned microphones to pick up the fact that when plants are being cut, or are ill, they emit frequencies akin to whimpers and screams. Not only that but just in general, plants are highly social organisms, they simply communicate in frequencies and ways that are different to those associated with the animal kingdom. 

“I think that is the single most terrifying thing I have ever heard in my life,” Leliana said finally.

“Understanding is the first step to correcting something,” she replied, “when I cook, I take these things into account, the same as when I mix medicines and poisons. I face them properly, and endeavor to not grant what they’d offered a disservice… Unlike Alistair.”

“Errr… I think I’m going to be taking cooking a lot more seriously from now on,” Alistair said.

“You’d fucking better,” she replied.

They set up camp for the day, and she began preparing dinner, since she was tired, and didn’t want to deal with being Alistair’s step-mother overseeing him cook. Honestly, his terrible cooking angered her greatly. It was a waste of good ingredients, and she’d grown up poor. The impoverished don’t have the luxury of being able to waste food like that. Her Father may have had the most lucrative job in the Alienage, but that didn’t mean much for Elves.

“So, Kallian,” Zevran said sidling up to her.

“Mmm?” she hummed as she began slicing through the vegetables.

“Are you sure you’re not leaving behind a lover in Denerim?” Zevran asked.

“And I thought I was the one with the slightly messed up personality,” she frowned, “but here you are, rubbing salt into my wounds.”

“I just find it hard to believe that a woman like you would escape notice,” Zevran replied.

“I did not, in fact, leave a lover behind,” she sighed, “and even if I did, everyone I know and love thinks I’m dead, and I’m going to have to keep it that way for a long time. So, even if I did have one, I doubt I’d have one when I returned. Rather, it would be stupid of me to expect to still have one.”

“Is—” 

“Kallian!” Alistair called after she’d set dinner on the fire cutting Zevran off, “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Alright, alright,” she sighed and Diana took her place by the fire continuing to dare Zevran to try something.

***

He, honestly, just wanted to get her away from Zevran. She seemed to trust him enough, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do the same. He was an assassin hired to kill them. Though it seemed like Kallian had figured him out or something along those lines. She really was good at dealing with people. Being able to grasp their personality and motives with ease. He wondered how she did it, how she knew exactly what to say, and when to say it.

“So?” Kallian asked sitting next to him while Diana stood guard watching dinner cook.

“I… wanted to talk about Duncan,” he sighed, “I know you didn’t know him as long as I did.”

“Still, he was like a Father to you,” Kallian replied, “even I could see that.”

“I… I should have handled it better,” he replied, “Duncan warned me right from the beginning that this could happen. Any of us could die in battle. I shouldn’t have lost it, not when so much is riding on us, not with the Blight and… and everything. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Kallian said, “you have no reason to be. No matter how much preparation one might do, losing someone important is never easy.”

“I’d… like to have a proper funeral for him. Maybe once this is all done, if we’re still alive,” he replied and received a swift smack to the head, “right, sorry, once this is all done, once we’ve ended the Blight. I don’t think he had any family to speak of.”

“He had you,” Kallian said with a soft smile.

“I suppose he did… It probably sounds stupid, but part of me wishes I was with him,” he admitted, “in the battle. I feel like I abandoned him.”

“It’s not stupid,” Kallian replied, “there’s a name for that thing you’re feeling. It’s called: survivor’s guilt. It’s when you believe that you’ve done something wrong by surviving a traumatic event when others didn’t. You blame yourself for the deaths of the others…”

“Do you have it too?” he asked.

“Yeah, there were people I tried to save, but failed to,” Kallian replied with a far-off look, “I was either too weak, too slow, or too incompetent… I have those thoughts like: _why were you so slow? If you’d only been faster, you might have rescued them in time! If you weren’t so damn weak, you could have saved them!_ I was well acquainted with death in the Alienage, especially doing the work I did: helping out at the healers, helping out with the apothecary…”

“I can’t even imagine what that’d be like,” he said

“Don’t get me wrong, I loved my life. But there were times when I tried to save people, but ended up too slow, or too weak,” Kallian continued, “I was too slow to save my Aunt and Uncle… And that was years ago. It can be hard to get through, it takes time, it’s a process… but you’ll get there. You just… have to learn to forgive yourself, even if it’s only a little at a time. It’s hard, it sucks, and sometimes you wonder what the point even was. But you can’t give in… Someone once told me that ‘tragedy should be utilized as a source of strength’. No matter the difficulties or how painful the experience is, losing hope would be the true disaster.”

“Thank you, Kallian,” he replied after a bit of thought.

He really did admire her ability to know what to say, and when to say it. He wondered if her ability to soothe frayed nerves and calm people was because she knew what it was like to be struck down by life. She’d clearly experienced a lot but never allowed it to get her down, never allowed it to break her. ‘Tragedy should be utilized as a source of strength’… It was a process, one that’ll take time, but he’ll get there.

“Now then!” Kallian said standing up with a grin, “how about a bit of a martial demonstration?”

***

She knew the steps to save herself, but she had no interest in walking them.

For her? It didn’t matter, she’d already lost most of her own hope, but if she could keep others from experiencing the same? There was nothing she wouldn’t give. She herself, was beyond hope, anyway.

Why did she get to walk off freely, when Shianni was home in the Alienage suffering? When she couldn’t be there for her? She loved Shianni so damn much, but in the end, she had caused her the most pain. And to make it worse? She’d brought Nelaros down too. She had no illusions, there was no redemption for her. No matter how many she saved, it would never matter, because she failed the ones _she loved most_.

Well, she’ll just channel this into her movements while she pretends that everyone isn’t watching her.

She was better in barehanded combat, armed Elves never lived very long. 

So she married both styles, using both the evasive flowing maneuvering from _baguazhang_ using her momentum to help build into the stronger, fiercer _chāquán_ trusting her body to follow through with the movements she set in motion. It was still mainly _baguazhang_ but that was to be expected.

Still, there was nothing more satisfying than executing a five-forty twist into a front-split landing. Demonstrations were for people being able to see everything someone is capable of, not what they’ll actually do in battle, so might as well just go all out.

***

When Kallian spoke of philosophy and wisdom, one could not help but listen, a quality he did not think possible in these lands.

And watching her demonstrate her abilities in full, was a far better experience than fighting alongside her.

The way Kallian fought, was truly an art. She had full control of her body and trusted in it. She was well-disciplined in her martial style, something that was impressive to him.

There were movements that he did not think a body capable of handling, that she flowed through easily. There were movements that were almost too swift for him to see that she maneuvered through masterfully. It made him understand why she did not wear armor, and why she wore the clothes that she did: it was because of the way she moved and fought did not allow her to wear armor. But to compensate for that, her movements were graceful, fluid, and flexible that she would be able to either easily flow out of the way of any attack, or do as he had already seen: maneuver her opponents to become her armor and shield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Tao Te Ching Chapter Thirty-Three_


	15. How the Cat and Her Companions Journeyed to Redcliffe

Being in Redcliffe was brutal, they could not reach Arl Eamon, and night after night they had to deal with siege from the undead. She and Bann Teagan were doing all they could to help the villagers defend themselves, but hope was waning. Still, they continued to defend the village, praying that someone would come and give them aid.

***

She was stretching, and getting ready to start the day, it would probably take another four days to get to Redcliffe. She leapt up into a nearby tree and jumped from branch to branch until she was at the highest point, pulled out her map and surveyed the area to make sure they were heading in the right direction. She took a breath in, held it, and let it out, she’d almost forgotten this feeling of freedom.

“You even climb trees like a cat,” Sten said as she reacquainted herself with the ground, “in Seheron, there are large spotted cats who live in the jungle. We call the Jaguars, they are swift, powerful, and precise. You remind me of them.”

“That sounds so much better than being referred to as just a regular cat,” she nodded with approval.

Jaguars existed in this world? Let’s see… If memory served correctly, Jaguars were the perfect examples of a keystone species in that they had a strong top-down effect. They kept the environment they inhabited healthy by preying on other animals and keeping their populations in check. Not only that, but they were apex predators, the absolute top of the food chain. She could see the resemblance, especially given her role in Denerim.

“OW!” Alistair shouted and she jogged over to where Alistair and Diana were, “why you little…”

“What?” she asked confused, “what?”

“Diana here took offense at me getting near her food,” Alistair replied, “she snapped at me. Look.”

“Of course she snapped at you,” she frowned, “she thought you were going to take it away.”

“She doesn’t snap at you,” Alistair pointed out.

“Because she knows I rank above her,” she replied looking at his hand, “that’s why she listens to me. Dogs are pack animals that abide by a hierarchy.”

Diana huffed at Alistair and she knelt down and stared into her eyes for a bit then picked up a stick and began drawing a triangle in the dirt, separated it into three parts, and labeled them.

“This is what she thinks our hierarchy is,” she said gesturing to it, “I’m at the top, then her, then everyone else.”

Diana put her paw on her hand.

“Hm? Ah, sorry,” she changed it a bit moving Sten up to the same rank as Diana, “Sten’s here too.”

“You two really are in sync, aren’t you?” Alistair quirked a brow.

“Of course we are,” she replied.

They pulled up camp and loaded up Bodahn’s cart to start setting off to Redcliffe. She missed actual beds, having a roof over her head, and a proper kitchen.

“Kallian, did you always live in an Alienage?” Leliana asked, “was it very terrible?”

“Terrible? It wasn’t terrible at all,” she shook her head, “on first day, my cousins and I would climb to the highest rooftops to watch the first sunrise of the year… And we had a weekly tradition of going stargazing at night. My days were generally filled with laughter and love.”

“That is good to hear,” Leliana replied, “I have never been to the Denerim Alienage, but I hear that life is hard and… there is so much squalor.”

“Life’s hard no matter where you live it,” she replied, “I was well acquainted with death and hardship, sure, but that just made me treasure the time I had with my friends and family all the more.”

“That’s a nice way of looking at it,” Leliana nodded, “in Orlais, most Elven servants live in the homes of their masters, often in great wealth and luxury.”

“My Father is the head-servant of Bann Rodolf’s Denerim estate,” she said thoughtfully, “but he was still expected to return to the Alienage by nightfall.”

“I’ve known Elven servants with servants of their own,” Leliana replied, “a well-trained Elven servant is highly valued in Orlais. They are nimble and dexterous and many people find them pleasing to look at.”

“While I did expect to one day find employment as a servant,” she frowned, “I would prefer people not find us pleasing to look at. Especially considering the fact that I felt the need to _dress like a man whenever I left the Alienage._ ”

And especially with how nobles like Vaughan preyed upon Elves in the Alienage, people who she intentionally led to their dooms because of their ill-intentions.

“I— I did not mean it that way!” Leliana apologized, “my words were clumsily chosen… I did not mean to offend. I— ugh I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she sighed, “like I said: the first step to correcting something is through understanding, and now you know.”

“You have given me a lot to think about,” Leliana replied.

“That’s what I’m here for, empowering people, making them think,” she replied, “and to end the Blight.”

“Empowering people?” Zevran asked.

“I really, really, really, want to see a horde of soldiers wielding shovels,” she said clenching a fist.

“Shovels?” Sten asked, “you want to see soldiers wielding shovels?”

“Oh! You guys weren’t there for that,” Leliana clapped her hands together, “back in Lothering, outside of the Chantry there was a Chasind man who was scaring people. Kallian calmed him down and sent him on his way, and then told some farmers that they had skills they could use to defend themselves. And that getting used to a weapon is useless when they already have tools that can double as weapons. It was quite impressive.”

“By the way, Zevran,” she asked, “what’s Antiva like?”

“Oh? You wish to know about Antiva, do you? The only way to truly appreciate it would be to go there,” Zevran replied, “it is a warm place, not cold and harsh like Ferelden. In Antiva it rains often, but the flowers are always in bloom… or so the saying goes.”

It sounded just like where she lived in her past life.

“You don’t like Ferelden?” she asked.

“It is fine enough with its dogs and its mud. The people are spirited even if they can’t tell the difference between an assassin and a mere killer,” Zevran replied, “I hail from the glorious Antiva City, home to the royal palace. It is a glittering gem amidst the sand, my Antiva City. Do you come from someplace comparable?”

“Of course, my Mother was better than any gem, fiercer than any fire, freer than the wind,” she replied, “softer than any silk, but also harder than any rock…”

“Well, you have me there, indeed! I, for one, can make no such claim as I never laid eyes on the woman!” Zevran laughed, “hmm… you know what is odd? We speak of my homeland, and for all its wine and its dark-haired beauties and the lillo flutes of the minstrels… I miss the leather the most.”

“…Is that some kind of euphemism?” she asked with furrowed brows.

“It may as well be! But not this once, no,” Zevran laughed, “I mean the smell. For years I lived in a tiny apartment near Antiva City’s leather-making district, in a building where the Crows stored their youngest recruits. Packed in like crates… I grew accustomed to the stench, even though the Humans complained of it constantly. To this day, the smell of fresh leather is what reminds me most of home more than anything else.”

“You sound like you’ve been away from home forever,” she said thoughtfully.

“Oh, not so long, I know,” Zevran sighed, “it is my first time away from Antiva, however, and the thought of never returning makes me think of it constantly.”

“I know how that feels,” she sighed, “this is my first time away from Denerim.”

“Oh? Before I left, I was tempted to spend what little coin I possessed on leather boots I spotted in a store window… Finest Antivan leather, perfect craftsmanship… Ah, but I was a fool to leave them,” Zevran replied, “I thought, ‘Ah, Zevran, you can buy them when you return as a reward for a job well done!’ More the fool I, no?”

Now she was confused, she was fairly certain that he’d planned on not ever returning. Since you can’t return somewhere when you’re dead.

“Your home is still there, Zevran,” she replied, she on the other hand? She was kicked out of the city. By the City Guard.

“True, and it’s a comforting thought,” Zevran replied, “one simply never knows what is to come next. How could I have suspected I would end up defeated by a beautiful Grey Warden, a woman who then spares my life? I could not.”

“Well, now you’re just flattering me,” she frowned.

“I say you are beautiful because it is true,” Zevran replied, "should I not?”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” she sighed.

A broken hollowed-out husk like her could never be beautiful. She may have been beautiful before, but she lost her light. Her flames no more than embers fading away into charcoal.

“Lying? You think I’m lying?” Zevran asked in shock, “I’m thinking that you should be told that you are beautiful more often.”

“Now you’re REALLY just trying to flatter me,” she replied, “at current, I’m nothing more than a lump of coal. A disappointing lump of coal.”

“I strongly disagree with that statement,” Zevran replied with a frown.

“Then let us agree to disagree,” she sighed.

“If that is what you wish,” Zevran sighed, “now if it is all the same to you, I would prefer not to speak more of Antiva. It makes me wistful and hungry for a proper meal.”

“I miss being able to cook a proper meal,” she replied.

“Kallian, your meals are already the best I’ve ever eaten,” Alistair said butting into the conversation.

“Now imagine what it’d be like if I had an actual kitchen,” she said.

“…Well, now I’m hungry,” Alistair sighed.

“I’m not on cooking duty today,” she replied.

***

A disappointing lump of coal? Kallian thought herself a disappointing lump of coal?

Who would consider her a disappointing lump of coal? If anything, she was one of the finest gems he had ever laid eyes on. She was strong, charismatic, witty, and acted with a grace and poise many would be envious of, especially considering her skills and abilities.

“By the way,” Kallian said looking at him, “why did you want to leave the Crows?”

“Well, now, I imagine that’s a very fair question. Being an assassin, after all, is a living, at least as far as such things go,” he replied, “I was simply never given the opportunity to choose another way. So if that choice presents itself, why should I not seize upon it.”

“You didn’t choose to join the Crows?” Kallian tilted her head to the side, “oh, wait, that’s right. You said you were bought on the slave market.”

“Mm I didn’t even know the Crows existed when I joined them,” he sighed, “I was but a boy of seven when I was purchased. For three sovereigns, I’m told. Which is a good price, considering I was all ribs and bone and didn’t know the pommel of a dagger from the pointy end… The Crows buy all their assassins that way. Buy them young, raise them to know nothing else but murder. And if you do poorly in your training, you die.”

“And that system works?” Kallian quirked a brow.

“Of course. You compete against your fellow assassins, and those who survive are rightfully proud of it,” he replied, “in Antiva, being a Crow gets you respect. It gets you wealth. It gets you women… and men, or whatever it is you might fancy. But that does mean doing what is expected of you, always. And it means being expendable. It’s a cage, if a gilded cage. Pretty. But confining.”

“I knew the pommel of a dagger from the pointy end when I was seven,” Kallian said thoughtfully.

“You did?” he asked.

“Yeah, my Mother wanted me to get an early start in case she died, so I started my training when I was four,” Kallian nodded, “I don’t think I’d have survived if I had become a Crow, though.”

And he thought the Crows got an early start on training their assassins. Clearly, they had nothing on this woman’s Mother, and quite honestly? It showed. Especially in her martial demonstration, she was well-disciplined and flexible with a high amount of mobility.

“I don’t think you would have died,” he mused, “and the Crows would, quite literally, kill to have someone of your talents.”

“I don’t know about that, I’d probably have wondered what the point was and just given up,” Kallian laughed, “so, you should be proud to have survived because it meant you had the strength and will to keep going.”

“Hm, now that’s an interesting way to look at it,” he replied thoughtfully.

“I was also a bit of a wild child, so they might have just killed me on principle,” Kallian added, “I’m not easily controlled. Fire can never be easily tamed.”

“So, what do you fancy, Zevran?” Leliana asked.

“I fancy many things. I fancy things that are beautiful and things that are strong. I fancy things that are dangerous and exciting,” he replied, “and currently, I fancy Kallian quite a bit.”

“Did you enjoy being an assassin?” Kallian asked apparently deciding to ignore that last statement.

“Why not? There are many things to enjoy about being a Crow in Antiva. You are respected, you are feared… The authorities go out of their way to overlook your trespasses. Even the rewards are nothing to turn your nose up at,” he replied, “as for the killing part, well… some people simply need assassinating. Or do you disagree?”

“I do not disagree, some people are shitty wastes of space who don’t even deserve to so much as b.r.e.a.t.h.e,” Kallian replied in a dangerous tone and an unnatural tilt of her head before suddenly jolting a bit, “ah, sorry, my face.”

All he could think, was that she had resembled a beautiful monster. She truly was everything he fancied: Strong, beautiful, dangerous, deadly, and exciting.

Though, he was curious who this person who’d made her revert to this state was. Ah, well, no matter, he sincerely doubted that person still drew breath.

“Oh? Are you thinking of someone in particular?” he asked.

“Nope!” Kallian beamed, and he knew she was lying. Someone didn’t look that way when they weren’t speaking of someone in particular. She had hated someone with a vehement and possibly violent rage.

“I often find myself the instrument of fate, ending lives for one necessity or another,” he replied deciding to brush over that topic, “I console myself with the notion that most of them had it coming.”

“Well, if they were wanted dead enough to have someone pay for it,” Kallian replied thoughtfully, “they probably did… Though I suppose that means I had it coming too… Yeah, I can see that. Alistair on the other hand? Nah.”

“Oh? You think someone would want you dead?” he quirked a brow.

“Well, obviously,” Kallian laughed, “since you’re here.”

“You have me there,” he laughed, “and well, as far as the act of killing itself, why not? There is a certain artistry to the deed, the pleasure of sinking your blade into their flesh and knowing that their life is in your hands.”

“A job well done does always feel good,” Kallian nodded, “especially if it’s a result of something you trained for… For instance, it’s always satisfying for me to nail a five-forty twist into a front-split landing.”

“The way you move does have a significant amount of artistry to it,” he replied thoughtfully, “and there are many things I did not enjoy about being a Crow, of course. Having no choice, being treated as an expendable commodity, the rules… Oh so many rules!”

“Ughh… rules are the worst… I always broke them,” Kallian groaned, “so they definitely would have just written me off as a lost cause and killed me.”

“Ah-ha! A bit of a rule-breaker, then, are you?” he laughed.

“A bit is putting it lightly,” Kallian replied with a grin, “playful trickster, remember?”

“True, very true,” he nodded, “but, simply being an assassin? I like it just fine. I will continue to do it, if I can, even if I am not a Crow. Honestly, could you picture me doing something else?”

“Why not?” Kallian shrugged, “you can do whatever you like.”

“Whereas I am content merely doing what I happen to be good at,” he replied, “it’s a talent that not many come by honestly, I don’t see why I need not pursue it… Though I happen to think that you would make an excellent assassin.”

“Well, I suppose we both deal in lives,” Kallian replied thoughtfully, “though I primarily dealt in saving them, whereas you deal in ending them.”

“That is a rather true. Though, it appears you do well in both areas,” he said, “of course, all these thoughts are moot. Chances are still good that you and I will perish, eaten by Darkspawn or slain by the Crows at some point. Very gruesomely, I imagine.”

“I just don’t want to end up poisoned by Alistair’s cooking,” Kallian sighed.

“Not all of us can have every skill in the book!” Alistair shouted.

“It’s what happens when you grow up in poverty!” Kallian shouted back, “you learn how to do everything yourself because extravagance is the enemy!”

Extravagance is the enemy, hm? Perhaps the Crows could learn a great deal by looking into Kallian’s life, she had skills and abilities that many of them would be jealous of. She’d begun her training when she was four and learned a wide variety of skills because she felt that she’d had no other choice but to do so. He wondered what kind of life this woman had been living up until now. She truly utilized tragedy as a source of strength.

Was living in an Alienage truly that hard a life?

“Hmm… By the way, last night I noticed that you change the way you strike,” he said, “you didn’t simply use your fists, do you truly use your palms and fingers as well?”

“Of course I do,” Kallian nodded, “if I’m hitting a hard place on someone's body, I’d prefer to strike it with my palms to reduce the damage I take as well. If I’m hitting a soft area, I strike with my fist. And for precision strikes, I use my fingers.”

“Does everyone in the Alienage know how to fight as you do?” he asked.

“Nope, I’m the only one. My Mother didn’t care what anyone else said, and wanted me to learn how to defend myself, while still also be able to handle other things,” Kallian shook her head, “so she taught me what she knew, and taught me how to use the skills I learned as a rogue for other things, like sewing, knitting, cooking, and stuff, so that I could upkeep all of my skills and abilities without adding too much extra effort.”

“Hm, interesting,” he replied thoughtfully, “ah, well it certainly is pleasant enough to chat about.”

“True,” Kallian nodded.

Her Mother sounded like a truly amazing woman, one who would highly be sought after by many organizations, he was sure.

***

Just like in her past life, both she and Diana often used each other as furniture. Sometimes she used her as a pillow, backrest, and footrest. And she was often used as a pillow and chair for her.

“Ooph,” she wheezed as Diana barreled into her, “sweetie, you’re too big for this. Please, move.”

Diana stayed put.

“…Well, alright then,” she sighed, “if you want to still believe that you’re a lap dog then go ahead. I guess.”

In their past life, she was far more manageable. But in this life? In this life she was half her height, and twice her bulk.

“You two are really close,” Alistair pointed out.

“So you’ve said,” she replied, “multiple times.”

“It’s just… strange,” Alistair replied, “I’ve never seen anyone this close with their dog.”

“Then they’re missing out, or aren’t treating their dogs right,” she replied before petting her pupper vigorously and cooing, “isn’t that right? Isn’t that right? Yes, it is. Yes, it is.”

“What happened to your voice?” Alistair asked.

“Nooothing,” she replied before tapping the ground twice, “alright, hop up, Dia. C’mon, hop up.”

Diana sighed and stood up and moved to curl up at her side.

“Much better,” she nodded before handing her a piece of jerky, “ah-ah. No. Nicely. Nicely… Good girl.”

***

Kallian’s ability to get along, and connect with everyone was rather astonishing. An assassin had been hired to kill her, and she was already joking around with him, trading witty remark for witty remark. Not only that, but she’d even gotten along with, and joked around with her Mother.

“Hey, Morrigan?” Kallian asked, “did you grow up in the Wilds?”

“Why do you ask me such questions?” she frowned, “I do not probe you for pointless information, do I?”

“You can if you’d like,” Kallian replied.

“Oh, what luck… What is it you asked? If I ‘grew up’ in the Wilds?” she replied, “a curious question. Where else would you picture me?”

“Well, I can’t imagine Alistair growing up in a Chantry,” Kallian shrugged, “and I bet you wouldn’t expect that I grew up in poverty so intense I had to decide on whether I would splurge ten silver on a book or save it in case I’d need it later down the road.”

“‘Tis true, I would not have expected either of those things,” she nodded, “for many years, it was simply Flemeth and I. The Wilds and its creatures were more real to me than Flemeth’s tales of the world of man. In time, I grew curious, I left the Wilds to explore what lay beyond. Never for long. Brief forays into a civilized wilderness.”

“And you always returned to the Wilds?” Kallian asked

“Would you not do the same? Your world is an unforgiving and cold place,” she replied, “the Wilds I hail from is home to me, and I a natural denizen.”

“True,” Kallian sighed, “I miss crawling over the rooftops of Denerim.”

“For all that I had been taught, however, the truth of the civilized lands proved to be… overwhelming,” she said, “I was unfamiliar with so much. So confident and bold was I, yet there was much that Flemeth could never have prepared me for.”

“Very daring,” Kallian replied, “that sounds like you.”

“Equal parts daring and foolhardy, perhaps,” she laughed, “only once was I accused of being a Witch of the Wilds, and that by a Chasind who happened to be traveling with a merchant caravan. He pointed and gasped and began shouting in his strange language, and most assumed he was casting some curse upon me. I acted the terrified girl, and naturally, he was arrested.”

“Nice thinking,” Kallian nodded with approval.

“Men are always willing to believe two things about a woman: one, that she is weak,” she replied, “and two, that she finds him attractive.”

“And that makes them so easy to trick,” Kallian grinned.

“You have experience with this, then?” she asked, interest piqued.

“Oh, yes, there have been many times where men have tried to prey on me as well,” Kallian replied with a sneer, “but well, you should always choose your targets wisely, for you never know when you’ll attack the true predator.”

She could believe this, Kallian did seem the sort who wouldn’t stand by while injustice was being done. Especially to women, and especially considering how she’d moved between her and the Templar in Lothering without even a second thought.

“I can believe this,” she replied, “I played the weakling and batted my eyelashes at the captain of the guard.”

“Child’s play,” they said in unison.

“The point being that I was able to move through Human lands fairly easily, whatever Humans think a Witch of the Wilds looks like, ‘tis not I,” she continued, “not that I did not have trouble. There are things about Human society which have always puzzled me. Such as the touching— why all the touching for a simple greeting?”

“I only greet people I actually know that way,” Kallian cringed, “I hate it when strangers touch me.”

“Exactly! What is the point of touching my hand? I find it an offensive intrusion,” she frowned, “there were many nuances that Flemeth could never tell me of. When to look into another’s eyes, how to eat at a table, how to bargain without offending… none of these things I knew… I still do not understand it all, truth be told. But, then I gave up long ago any hope of doing so. When I returned to the Wilds last, I swore to Flemeth that I had no intention of leaving again.”

“Jokes on us,” Kallian groaned, “I told everyone in the Alienage that I was _never, ever_ leaving Denerim.”

“And yet here we are,” she agreed with a sigh.

***

They were nearing Redcliffe, and she was unsure of what Zevran’s intentions towards Kallian were, but it seemed like his eyes were always on her. Though she could hardly blame him, Kallian was an incredibly curious person who had an alarming amount of charisma. Still, he seemed more fascinated by her than the average person. Perhaps he truly did fancy her. They also seemed to have a nice dynamic between them.

“Kallian,” she said, “have I ever told you I really like the way you wear your hair?”

“My hair?” Kallian replied, “thank you.”

“It’s very nice, and it suits you, it’s elaborate but still simple. Not like the elaborate hairstyles we wore in Orlais. They involved flowers, ribbons, jewels,” she nodded, “one year, feathers were all the rage, and Lady Elise decided she needed to outdo everyone else, and actually wore live songbirds in her voluminous hair. The chirping was quite charming for a while, but you must realize, terrified little birdies often have loose bowels.”

“Oh, those poor things,” Kallian frowned.

“Yes, I don’t envy them in the least. She never washed her hair,” she replied and Kallian winced, “but I was trying to say something nice to you, wasn’t I? Oh, forgive me. My mind wanders so… It’s just that I… I feel so comfortable talking to you, like I could say anything and you wouldn’t judge me.”

“Well, we are friends, aren’t we?” Kallian replied wryly.

“Yes, very much so,” she smiled, “I haven’t felt this close to anyone in a long time. I really enjoy your company.”

“You are a treasured friend, Leliana,” Kallian grinned.

“Thank you,” she replied, “I am honored that you feel that way.”

“By the way,” Kallian hummed, “why did you decide to come to Ferelden?”

“My Mother was from Denerim and I consider myself a Ferelden, Mother served an Orlesian noblewoman who lived here when Orlais ruled,” she explained, “when Orlais was defeated and the common folk began to resent the presence of any Orlesian, the lady returned to Orlais. She took my Mother with her… I was born in Orlais, and did not step foot in Ferelden till much later. Mother was always telling me stories of her homeland; I think she missed it.”

“What happened to your Mother?” Kallian asked.

“Mother died when I was very young, Lady Cecilie let me stay with her. I had no one else,” she replied sadly, “she was quite old then, and she had me study music and dance to entertain her. It is unfair, that I have more memories of Cecilie than my Mother.”

“Do you remember anything of your Mother?” Kallian asked.

“Strangely, the only thing I really remember of Mother was her scent,” she replied, “she kept dried flowers in her closet, amongst her clothes… Small white Ferelden wildflowers with a sweet fragrance. Mother called them Andraste’s Grace. They were very rare in Orlais.”

“Oh! We had those in the Alienage!” Kallian clapped her hands together, “they’re my cousin’s favorite.”

“Your cousin has good taste,” she replied.

“I agree,” Kallian smiled sadly, “I miss her a lot…”

“Were you very close to her?” she asked.

“We were partners in crime,” Kallian replied sadly, “we were practically always together… And now… Now I’m a Grey Warden and she thinks I’m dead.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to return home, someday,” she replied soothingly.

“I… wouldn’t count on it,” Kallian sighed, and it looked like she didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so it was better not to push, “so, what would someone like you be doing in Lothering’s Chantry?”

“What is meant by ‘someone like me’?” she replied.

“They don’t teach you how to fight in the cloister, do they?” Kallian tilted her head to the side.

“Did you think I was always a cloistered sister?” she replied, “the Chantry provides succor and safe harbor to all those who seek it. I chose to stay and become affirmed.”

“So you learned your skills and abilities before you entered the Chantry?” Kallian asked.

“I was a traveling minstrel, in Orlais. Tales and songs were my life,” she replied, “I performed, and they rewarded me with applause and coin. And my skill in battle… well, you pick up different skills when you travel, yes? Yes, of course.”

“Do you miss anything about Orlais?” Kallian asked.

“I miss Val Royeaux. Unlike other cities, where the people are the life-blood and the character, Val Royeaux was her own person, and her people little more than decorations,” she replied, “there was always music in Val Royeaux, streaming from the many windows— quiet refrains and triumphant choruses… And always, floating above that all, the Chant, coming from the Grand Cathedral. It was magnificent.”

“I never planned to leave Denerim,” Kallian said thoughtfully, “though I suspect Zevran would fight you over whether Val Royeaux or Antiva City was better.”

“True,” she giggled, “are you not going to defend Denerim?”

“Nope, I know Denerim’s kind of a dump,” Kallian waved her sleeve around, “no one knows Denerim as I do, no one can navigate Denerim as I can. So, yeah, I know Denerim’s kind of a dump.”

“Well, of course there are good and bad things about Orlais, like anywhere else,” she replied, “sometimes I miss it dearly, and sometimes I am glad I am rid of it… And you will laugh at this, but I miss the fine things I had in Orlais.”

“I… wouldn’t know what that’s like,” Kallian said looking off to the side. That was right, to Kallian, extravagance was the enemy. She had to learn skills in order to live the life she had… Perhaps she should treat her to something nice, every woman likes to be spoiled every now and again, “what sorts of things did you have?”

“Dresses… fine dresses and furs. And shoes, of course,” she replied, “one can’t mingle with nobility with bad shoes, you see… Orlais is very fashionable. Almost ridiculously so. Ahhh… but the shoes. Living with those ridiculous trends was worth it for the shoes.”

“Were they ridiculous shoes?” Kallian asked.

“Sometimes. About ten years ago, all the ladies went mad for shoes with soles as large— and heavy— as bricks. But it isn’t always that silly,” she replied, “when I left Orlais, the fashion was shoes with delicate, tapered heels and embellishments in the front— a ribbon perhaps, or embroidery. In soft colors of course; it was spring.”

“Ohh… that sounds nice,” Kallian said, “though I doubt I’d have been able to function in them…”

“I had my eye on a pair my shoemaker was working on, it was covered in pale blue silk, with amber beads on the toe,” she sighed, “the shoes made in Orlais were exquisite. Not at all like these clunky fur-lined leather boots you have in Ferelden. Ugh… just… look at them.”

“I can’t wear those,” Kallian said, “or at least not right now. Boots hamper my movements too much.”

“True, you do seem to need a great deal of flexibility in your legs as well,” she nodded, “that is why you don’t wear armor, no?”

“Yes, it’s too restrictive,” Kallian nodded, “it weighs and slows me down, adds too much rigidity to my body… The first time I wore armor was during the Battle for Ostagar, and my performance felt terrible. I got hit, I got tired, I was slow… It was the worst. But I suppose at least the boots we have to keep the cold out. Luckily, I’m sensitive to heat, so I don’t need to worry about them too much.”

“Well, they’re sturdy shoes, sure,” she nodded, “but sometimes a girl just wants to have pretty feet… Oh, I could talk about shoes all day…”

“I only had one pair of boots in the Alienage… It was one of the few times I splurged on myself,” Kallian replied thoughtfully, “they’re black leather with white laces… I didn’t get to splurge on myself very often.”

“Perhaps I should take you shoe shopping one day,” she mused, “I think you would enjoy it greatly.”

“I’ll look forward to it, then,” Kallian grinned.

***

They set up camp for the day, they would be entering Redcliffe tomorrow morning.

She leapt up into a tree ascending to the highest branch she could and sat there, swinging her legs back and forth as she stared at the moon. Her hand went to the ring around her neck and she ran her thumb over the cool metal of it.

It had really been well made…

Her fault.

It was her fault he was dead. It was her fault that everything was a mess.

She couldn’t let the others see her like this, or rather, she refused to allow the others to see her like this. She felt tears well up in the corners of her eyes, as she wished for a thousand things that didn’t matter.

She was afraid.

She was afraid she’d ruin the lives of her companions who were waiting down below, she could see them, specks in the distance sitting around the fire, but she kept her eyes towards the sky. A tight feeling in her chest, as she desperately yearned for the life she had lived before. He shouldn’t have had to die because of her. He truly was too good for her… She didn’t deserve him, so perhaps that’s why he was taken from her. Her fingers clenched at her chest and a tear slid down her cheek.

Who was she kidding? Save Ferelden? She didn’t even want to save herself, who could she save? No one, that’s who. 

Nothing, she was nothing.

She didn’t deserve anything more than a traitors death, and idly she remembered what she’d once told Shianni:

_“If it’s you, I wouldn’t mind.”_

She had meant it, if it was Shianni who wanted her dead, she’d willingly slit her own throat. Drawing one of her throwing knives from her pouch, she pressed the tip of it to the side of her neck. She wouldn’t actually end it, not yet, anyway. There was still work to be done, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t long for it.

She couldn’t help but huff a laugh, she truly got the words of that one song from her past life: she’d tried so hard, and got so far… but in the end, it truly didn’t even matter.

***

His poisons were missing.

His poisons were missing and there were only two other rogues in the group who would steal them.

And one of them, in particular, had declared herself a playful trickster.

“Kallian,” he said as she was in the middle of her morning stretches, “where are my poisons?”

“Why are you asking me?” Kallian asked innocently.

“While I don’t like making accusations,” he replied, “and I also appreciate the artistry behind a good burgle, to tell the truth… I need my poisons, and you are the most likely suspect.”

“Need is such a strong word,” Kallian replied batting her eyelashes.

“Kallian,” he frowned.

“Fiiine, I wanted to see if assassin poisons were special,” Kallian sighed and handed him a lock-box, “I figured out how to make antidotes from them, so there was that.”

“Did… did you drink my poisons?” he asked eyeing the lock-box.

“Mmm, it’s the best way to figure out what it does,” Kallian replied snapping her fingers into a thumbs up, “don’t worry, I’m completely fine. If applied right, some of those could even be used to treat certain illnesses.”

She… she drank his poisons? On purpose? She poisoned herself on purpose? They could be used to treat illnesses? Apparently, this so-called ‘Apothecary’s Crux’, as she called it, wasn’t just for show. 

When exactly did she steal his poisons? He had them last night, he was sure of that, but how long had they been in her possession for her to be able to do all of that?

“Did you just say you poisoned yourself with his poisons?!” Alistair practically shouted.

“Don’t worry,” Kallian replied, “I’m fine.”

“Is there a key for this?” he asked.

“Mmmm I lost it about three years ago,” Kallian replied thoughtfully, “so I just use lock-picks to open and close it… So just pick it open.”

He had told her that he was skilled in picking locks, not knowing that she was an actual master at lock-picking. Perhaps this lock wasn’t that hard to pick? He retrieved his lock-picks and he could feel her watching him. After a few seconds, he heard a loud clap, she’d lifted her hand up and slapped it over her mouth as her body began shuddering with barely concealed laughter.

“I— I’m not— I’m not—” Kallian was clearly trying incredibly hard not to laugh, she gave up as she doubled-over laughing, “oh my gosh! You lied about lock-picking! That’s such a baby lock too!”

“Yes, well, we can’t all be skilled at picking locks,” he replied dryly.

“But you said you were skilled at it! You said it! You said you were skilled at fighting, stealth, and lock-picking,” Kallian laughed hysterically, clutching her sides and falling to the ground, “I can’t— I can’t breathe! It hurts! I’m dying! I— Ahahahahaha!”

Death by laughter. That would be the first time he caused someone to die by making them laugh too hard, the Crows didn’t teach one to be amusing enough to cause someone to die through laughter.

“Yes, well, we can’t all be good at multiple things,” he sighed.

“Phooooooooo, lock-picking was one of the first things I learned,” Kallian replied holding a hand out as she desperately tried to stop laughing, “give it back.”

He had a feeling, he’d be seeing that lock-box more often. Especially, since she’d mentioned that she was a playful trickster. Her fingers were fumbling due to how much she was still trying to hold back her laughter, yet she still had it open fairly quickly. He took his poisons back while she continued to try to hold her laughter back in. She had not lied about her being a playful trickster with a love for laughter.

“I’m glad I did my morning stretches first,” Kallian sighed, “otherwise I might have gotten a cramp in my side… I’m probably going to remember that moment and laugh about it for the rest of my life.”

“Please don’t,” he sighed dryly.

“Well, it’s your fault for lying about being skilled at picking locks,” Kallian replied, “you should never lie about what skills you have. You don’t know when they’ll come into question like this.”

“Yes, well,” he replied, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Kallian was a strange sort, he’d only known her for a few days, and by the second day, she’d already begun joking around with him trading witty remark after witty remark. She was drawing him to her, and she probably didn’t even realize the effect she was having on him. She probably didn’t realize the effect she had on anyone. 

He won’t lie, he’d already imagined what her body would look like, feel like, and the sounds she would make while he ravished her. How soft and pliable her body would be beneath his fingers, but honestly, that goes without saying. Though, apparently, nobody knew just how big her body was. The clothes she wore were baggy, and her sleeves always covered her hands, and whenever she raised her hands, she held her sleeves to her palms. Though, despite how baggy they were, they did suit her quite nicely. Still, it did leave absolutely everything up to the imagination.

“Do you stare at everyone this way?” Kallian asked quirking a brow at him.

“Not everyone,” he replied, “but a beautiful woman like yourself? Why not? I am sure you draw many stares, from men and even other women. Does this bother you?”

“Mm… Not really I suppose,” Kallian replied, “but I don’t think I draw that many stares.”

“Would you prefer I desisted?” he asked, “it would be difficult, traveling as we do in close proximity, but I am nothing if not a gentleman.”

“Well, you don’t have a fist in your face,” Kallian replied thoughtfully, “so I suppose I don’t really care.”

“Oh? Now this is intriguing,” he grinned, “I shall have to redouble my efforts immediately.”

“Redouble your efforts?” Kallian tilted her head to the side.

“There was a young Elven danger in Antiva City once,” he recounted, “and I believe I actually managed to stare off all seven of her skirts… it’s a trick worth retrying.”

“Well, don’t worry,” Kallian replied simply, “you’ve already stared them off.”

“Oh? Is that so?” he grinned.

“Yeah,” Kallian said with a smooth grin, “because I’m wearing pants.”

Alistair snorted, and Leliana began giggling. Even Morrigan let out a small chuckle.

The woman was incredibly charming and witty, and it was, honestly, rather refreshing.

“Well, now that that’s out of the way,” he said, “perhaps we should move on? With you in front, of course.”


	16. How the Future Queen Met the Cat Who Reached Redcliffe

_Attain the ultimate emptiness_  
_Hold on to the truest tranquility_  
_The myriad things are all active_  
_I therefore watch their return_  
_Everything flourishes; each returns to its root_  
_Returning to the root is called tranquility_  
_Tranquility is called returning to one's nature_  
_Returning to one's nature is called constancy_  
_Knowing constancy is called clarity_  
_Not knowing constancy, one recklessly causes trouble_  
_Knowing constancy is acceptance_  
_Acceptance is impartiality_  
_Impartiality is sovereign_  
_Sovereign is Heaven_  
_Heaven is the Way_  
_The Way is eternal_  
_The self is no more, without danger._

She’d decided to not write it as the Tao if anyone saw this, it’d be _much_ harder to explain, so instead, she’d opted to use the translation of Tao. Thinking about it, she didn’t know why she was even writing these, she had no real plans to re-find her Way, and quite honestly? She didn’t really care about it.

She closed her book and threw it in a lock-box that was ten times harder than the one she’d used to torment Zevran.

Closing her eyes, she decided to think on her companions for a moment, she didn’t know how much longer she could dodge questions regarding her recruitment into the Wardens, but she was already running a story of it through her head. One that was the honest truth, without detailing anything specific. They’d already felt like family. Well, except for Zevran, for some reason. Which was a little weird, then again, they did seem to apparently complement each other rather well. They’d both similarly had harsh and cruel lives, but she had a feeling that their similarities didn’t end there.

That trap was definitely a death wish.

Something happened to him that made him want to throw his life away, of that, she was sure. Something set him off balance, something had crushed him. She knew, because she was the same. On her last day in the Alienage, she was forced to see just how worthless, how weak, how pathetic, and how incompetent she truly was. How she ruined everything with her own hands, because of how stupid she truly was. She tried throwing her life away to save the Alienage, she’d tried to throw her life away during the Joining, tried to throw her life away saving Alistair. She fucking sucked at getting herself killed, and it seemed he was much the same. She could tell that he had given up because she had too.

Though, she had absolutely no clue what he wanted now, so there was that. Her goal on the other hand? End the Blight, and then maybe just off herself. She couldn’t leave this up to fate anymore, it wasn’t on her side. Or was it? 

Urgh, this thought process was getting messy. Mmmm… Ah, well, she’ll go with the flow, while still refusing to accept what had happened to her. She didn’t want to accept it, she didn’t want to accept that it was the way of the universe… So for now, she’ll simply continue being a rebellious brat.

She still really wanted to go to Denerim, she _needed_ to tell Shianni she was still alive, but she also didn’t want to explain anything. She didn’t want to explain why she wanted to go to Denerim right after this, and efficiency-wise, it’d be better to head to Lake Calenhad after they concluded business in Redcliffe, though the mages probably also needed a serious dose of help. Maybe… Redcliffe -> Lake Calenhad -> Denerim? And then after Denerim -> Brecilian forest? But, the Brecilian Forest would be on the way to Denerim…

Urrrrrgggggghhhhhhhh this planning thing was getting messy too.

Her head was a mess.

Let’s just… forget about it and focus on the present for now! Bridges should be crossed when you get to them, not while she was miles away from them.

And in any case ending the Blight will still be her protecting those she cared about…

…Right?

***

He should probably tell her before they moved into Redcliffe. Tell her how he knew Arl Eamon, and about how he’s King Cailan’s half-brother.

“There a reason you’re fidgeting like crazy, there, Alistair?” Kallian asked.

“Look, can we talk for a moment?” he sighed, “I need to tell you something I, ah, should probably have told you earlier.”

“I’m sorry!” Kallian said after her eyes widened and she’d clapped her hands in front of her and bowed, “but I’d like to stay as friends!”

“What?! No! No!” he shouted, “that’s not! No! I don’t see you that way either!”

“Oh,” Kallian sighed with relief, “so? What’s up?”

“Well, let’s see… How do you I tell you this?” he sighed, “we’re almost at Redcliffe.”

“Indeed! It’s right over yonder,” Kallian replied gesturing to the village.

“Did I say how I know Arl Eamon, exactly?” he asked.

“No, you never did,” Kallian shook her head.

“I’m a bastard! My Mother was a serving girl at Redcliffe castle and she died when I was born. Arl Eamon took me in and raised me before I was sent to the Chantry,” he admitted quickly, “the reason he did that was because… well, because my Father was King Maric. Which made Cailan my… half-brother, I suppose.”

“Sooo… you’re not just a bastard,” Kallian grinned, “but you’re a royal bastard.”

“Ha! Yes, I guess it does at that… I should use that line more often,” he laughed before he sighed, “I would have told you, but… it never really meant anything to me. I was inconvenient, a possible threat to Cailan’s rule and so they kept me a secret. I’ve never talked about it to anyone… Everyone who knew either resented me for it, or they coddled me… even Duncan kept me out of the fighting because of it. I didn’t want you to know, as long as possible. I’m sorry.”

“Mmm that must be why Cailan sent you to the Tower with me,” Kallian replied closing her eyes in thought.

“Cailan wanted me out of the battle?!” he asked in shock, “not Duncan?”

“Nope, it was Cailan, I believe his words were something along the lines of ‘then we should send our best, Kallian, I want you and Alistair to go to the Tower and make sure the beacon is lit’,” Kallian recounted, “then again, I could be remembering wrong. I did crack my skull… I wonder if he knew Loghain was going to double-cross him like that.”

“KALLIAN!” he shouted and Kallian widened her eyes and lifted her hands to cover her ears, “YOU NEED TO WORK ON YOUR COMMUNICATION SKILLS!”

“Yeeeeesh, no need to yell,” Kallian winced, “and I don’t like spreading information I’m not sure of like that. You never know who’ll actually believe the bullshit you spew, and I don’t want to be responsible for that.”

“Alistair,” Morrigan frowned, “I hope you have a good reason to berate your fellow Warden like this.”

“She has terrible communication skills,” he replied, “and keeps forgetting to tell me IMPORTANT INFORMATION!”

“My communication skills are amazing, and I don’t want to hear that from the _royal bastard_ ,” Kallian pursed her lips as she grumbled, “furthermore, I didn’t think telling you who sent us to the Tower was important. I also didn’t know you were Cailan’s half-brother. That last bit is just a guess I made based on the information currently available.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he sighed before turning to Morrigan with a frown, “anyway, butt out, we’re having an important discussion here.”

“‘Tis hard not to notice you yelling at Kallian,” Morrigan rolled her eyes but walked away.

“Honestly, I thought I taught you better than this,” Kallian sighed lifting a hand to her cheek, “in any case, I understand. Everyone has one or two secrets they want to keep to themselves.”

“You didn’t raise me, and good, I’m glad, it’s not like I got special treatment for it, anyhow,” he sighed, “Arl Eamon eventually married a young woman from Orlais, despite all the problems it caused with the King so soon after the war. He loved her a great deal…. Anyway, the new Arlessa resented the rumors which pegged me as the Arl’s bastard. They weren’t true, but of course, they existed. The Arl didn’t care, but she did. So off I was packed to the nearest monastery at age ten. Just as well. The Arlessa made sure the castle wasn’t a home to me by that point. She despised me.”

“Did she know the truth?” Kallian asked.

“She may have, but I think it’s more likely that she feared the rumors might be true, I can’t blame her for that,” he replied, “I remember I had an amulet with Andraste’s holy symbol on it. The only thing I had of my Mother’s. I was so furious at being sent away, I tore it off and threw it at the wall and it shattered… Stupid, stupid thing to do. The Arl came by the monastery a few times to see how I was, but I was stubborn. I hated it there and blamed him for everything… and eventually, he just stopped coming.”

“Why keep it a secret now?”

“My blood has never been important to me. I’ve spent my whole life trying to forget about it and being told that I would never sit on the throne,” he sighed, “and that’s fine by me. No, if there’s an heir to be found, it’s Arl Eamon himself. He’s not of royal blood, but he is Cailan’s uncle and more importantly: very popular with the people… Though if he’s really as sick as we’ve heard… no, I don’t want to think about that. I really don’t.”

“We’ll do all we can,” Kallian replied.

“Thank you, and there you have it,” he replied, “now can we move on, and I’ll just pretend you think I’m still some… nobody who was too lucky to die with the rest of the Grey Wardens.”

“As you command,” Kallian smirked, “Your Highness.”

“Oh, lovely,” he groaned, “I’m going to regret this. I just know it.”

“Well, you were the one who insulted my communication skills,” Kallian replied, “so, personally, I think it’s fair.”

He really should have known better than to insult her communication skills. Her saying her communication skills were amazing wasn’t a lie. They really were, especially with her being able to soothe the most frazzled minds. Something he knew personally, she’d always known what to say and when to say it. He was already beginning to forgive himself for the Battle of Ostagar. Not only that but her way of coping with loss, was really helping him as he wrote letters to Duncan and burned them as he reported new information to him.

“You know, Alistair,” Zevran said, “Antiva has a long tradition of royal bastards.”

“You don’t say,” he replied dryly.

“Oh, yes. They’ve led wars to claim the throne,” Zevran replied, “some of them have become kings. In fact, I’d say the current royal line in Antiva stems from bastard blood several times over.”

“Well, aren’t you just chock full of useless trivia today,” he replied.

“Sadly, whenever a royal bastard rears their head in public and declares themselves,” Zevran recounted, “it often goes poorly for them.”

“Let me guess,” he sighed, “they get assassinated?”

“Only the very popular ones.”

“And the unpopular ones?”

“Well, they get by somehow, I’m sure,” Zevran replied, “there was one fellow who did quite well working as a prostitute based on his uncanny resemblance to the king… Charged a fortune.”

“Couldn’t afford him, I take it?” he replied.

“That cynicism will serve you well, my friend,” Zevran replied, “hold onto it.”

Currently, he was simply praying that Arl Eamon was okay.

***

She hoped nothing weird was going on in Redcliffe, she really really really hoped nothing weird was going on in Redcliffe. Though, she supposed they’d find out real soon since they were finally about to enter the village. She could use a proper bed, a proper meal, and a proper bath. She was getting used to this whole camping business, but that didn’t mean she liked it. Not having to wake up for watch, not having to sleep on a stupid bedroll, not having to balance a goddamn cooking board on her lap… What she wouldn’t give for proper furniture and rest.

“I… I thought I saw travelers coming down the road, though I scarcely believed it,” a Man said running up to them as they were about to cross the bridge, “have you come to help us?”

“What do you mean?” Alistair asked, “is there a problem?”

“So you… don’t know?” the Man replied, “has nobody out there heard?”

“About how Arl Eamon is sick, we have,” she said, “however, from your appearance, I suspect there’s more at hand.”

“He could be dead, for all we know! Nobody’s heard from the castle in days!” the Man replied, “we’re under attack. Monsters come out of the castle every night and attack us until dawn. Everyone’s been fighting… and dying.”

This man had clearly been through a hellish couple of nights, and she hated that her immediate thoughts were: _what a pain_.

“Well, that’s just typical, isn’t it?” Zevran said dryly.

“Apparently everyone seems to agree that a Blight is the perfect time to start killing each other,” Morrigan said, “marvelous, really.”

“We’ve no army to defend us, no Arl and no King to send us help,” the Man said desperately, “so many are dead, and those left are terrified they’re next.”

“Hold on,” Alistair said holding up a hand, “what is this evil that’s attacking you?”

“I… I don’t rightly know, I’m sorry, nobody does,” the Man replied, “I should take you to Bann Teagan, and Lady Elissa. They’re all that’s holding us together.”

“Bann Teagan? Arl Eamon’s brother?” Alistair asked, “he’s here?”

“Yes, and Teyrna Elissa of Highever,” the Man nodded, “it’s not far if you’ll come with me.”

The… Teyrna of… Highever?

And a Bann?

Panic flooded her chest.

She wasn’t just any ordinary Elf, her Father was well respected amongst the nobility, they’d likely heard of her, of what she’s done. The pain she still didn’t want to share. The pain that was hers, and hers alone. The pain that she refused to allow anyone else to know about. Her shame assaulted her in a landslide. The disappointed look on Valendrian’s face as he walked away, how she’d felt the pieces of her shatter in her chest.

She thanked the heavens that she was a good actress, and good at hiding her discomfort. Hopefully… if they do recognize her, she’ll be able to dissuade them from saying anything.

There was a foreboding feeling that resonated throughout her entire body.

She looked around as they followed the man, whose name was apparently Tomas, and her mind immediately flashed back to Ostagar. To the encampment on the day of the battle, except this time, there weren’t battle-hardened veterans. There weren’t soldiers eager to prove their worth. They were simply terrified villagers who wondered what the night would bring.

They entered the Chantry, and she saw them, there were people injured, people ill. Exhaustion was clear on their faces, they were pale, there were bags under their eyes. If they did not properly rest soon, they may not live much longer.

Could she do something for them? Should she do something for them? Or would she just fuck up? Would she just ruin them forever? Would her help even _help_? Should she even extend a hand to help them? Even knowing that it was more likely to bring their doom?

She was scared.

She was terrified.

Every other time she’d strive to help people, to save them, all she ended up doing was making it worse. All she ended up doing was being too slow, too incompetent, too weak.

No, she couldn’t let her fear cripple her. She had to do something.

With that thought, she steeled herself the best she could.

“It’s… Tomas, yes?” a Man said as they approached, “and who are these people with you?”

“They’re obviously not simple travelers,” a Woman said eye-ing them.

“No, My Lord, My Lady,” Tomas replied, “they just arrived, and I thought you would want to see them.”

“Well done, Tomas. Greetings, friends,” Teagan said introducing himself, “my name is Teagan, Bann of Rainesfere, brother to the Arl.”

“And my name is Elissa Cousland,” Elissa said introducing herself, “daughter to the Teyrn of Highever… And I suppose, by right of succession: Teyrna of Highever.”

“I remember you, Bann Teagan,” Alistair said, “though the last time we met I was a lot younger and… covered in mud.”

“Covered in mud? …Alistair? It is you, isn’t it?” Teagan said and she had to cover her mouth with her hand, “you’re alive! This is wonderful news!”

Alistair was frowning at her.

“I— I’m sorry,” she said trying to get herself under control, “I just— I just don’t know how to feel about your defining characteristic being _covered in mud_.”

This would be a really, really, really bad time to laugh. Though, she did tell them that she had a bit of a messed-up personality, and had a love of laughter. Still, it’d be best for her to contain it as much as possible.

“Still alive, yes,” Alistair said deciding to ignore her, “though not for long if Teyrn Loghain has anything to say about it.”

“Indeed,” Teagan replied as she held in a breath, “Loghain would have us believe that all of the Grey Wardens died along with my nephew, amongst other things.”

“He already tried, remember?” she said gesturing to Zevran, “but yes, not all of us died. Though, I understand that I was very close to it… You don’t believe his lies, then?”

“This is true,” Zevran agreed, “he did.”

“What, that he pulled his men in order to save them? That Cailan risked everything in the name of glory? Hardly, Loghain calls the Grey Wardens traitors, murderers of the King. I don’t believe it. It is an act of a desperate man,” Teagan replied looking to her, “so, you are a Grey Warden as well? A pleasure to meet you, though I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Yes, my name is Kallian,” she said with a polite bow, “a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Kallian? As in Kallian Tabris?” Elissa asked in surprise, “as in the daughter of Cyrion?”

“Errr…Yes,” she replied looking to the side.

Panic rushed through her, they did know her. They did know her Father. Of course, they knew her Father… He was well respected.

But how did they know her?

“I’d been wanting to meet you,” Elissa said.

“Kallian? You’ve been wanting to meet Kallian?” Alistair quirked a brow.

“Cyrion Tabris is well known throughout nobility,” Teagan explained, “he’s the head-servant for Bann Rodolf’s Denerim estate, and he is not an easy man to please.”

“She’s fairly known as well, Cyrion’s daughter was rumored to be highly skilled, intelligent, and well-mannered,” Elissa added with a sigh, “I was hoping I could hire her as a servant.”

“I would have loved to work for you,” she replied clenching her fist, “I could have been both a bodyguard and a servant.”

“In any case, you’re here to see my brother?” Teagan said bringing the conversation back to topic, “unfortunately, that might be a problem. Eamon is gravely ill.”

“What a remarkable coincidence,” Zevran said dryly.

“Yes, we’ve heard,” she nodded, “do we know what his symptoms are?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Elissa replied shaking her head.

“No one has heard from the castle in days. No guards patrol the walls, and no one has responded to my shouts,” Teagan added, “the attacks started a few nights ago.”

“Evil… things… surged from the castle,” Elissa nodded, “we drove them back, but many perished during the assault.”

“What kind of evil things are you speaking of?” she asked.

“Some call them the walking dead,” Elissa answered, "decomposing corpses returning to life with a hunger for Human flesh."

Zombies.

They were being attacked by zombies.

Wonderful.

“They hit again the next night, each night they come, with greater numbers,” Teagan replied, “with Cailan dead and Loghain starting a war over the throne, no one responds to my urgent calls for help.”

“We have a feeling tonight’s assault will be the worst yet,” Elissa added.

“Indeed, Alistair, I hate to ask,” Teagan said imploringly, "but I desperately need the help of you and your friends."

“It isn’t just up to me,” Alistair replied, “though the Grey Wardens don’t stand much of a chance against Loghain without Arl Eamon.”

“Of course we’ll help,” she stated with a frown.

“How pointless, to help these villagers fight an impossible battle,” Morrigan rolled her eyes, “one would think we had enough to contend with elsewhere.”

“There are no Darkspawn here, and nothing to gain,” Sten said, “it is a fool’s errand.”

“Firstly: we needed Arl Eamon’s help, to begin with, we’re up against a seasoned general like Loghain, and it’s not _just_ Loghain, we have a Blight to end as well. We _need_ all the help we can get,” she said regarding the two with a stern expression as she stood her ground, back straight head held high, “secondly: not helping them would be an insult to the person that I am, and I refuse to allow that part of me die and fall by the wayside. If you only seek to end the Blight without aiding those suffering under its threat, then perhaps you need to re-evaluate yourselves. For things to truly heal, they need nurturing hands, not simple might.”

“…I should have expected this,” Morrigan sighed, “you have shown to be sickeningly kind and compassionate, ‘tis true.”

“Furthermore, if I left this village on its own, I would constantly wonder if what I did was the right thing,” she added, “and I don’t want to live like that.”

She’d lost enough pieces of herself, if she didn’t do this, she’d truly have lost sight of herself. Her skills, everything she’d stood for was to help people, not cause them more suffering.

“Thank you! Thank you, this… this means more to me than you can guess,” Teagan replied gratefully, “Tomas, please tell Murdock what transpired. Then return to your post.”

“Yes, My Lord,” Tomas replied before taking his leave.

“Now then, there is much to do before night falls,” Teagan said, “we’ve put two men in charge of the defense outside.”

“Murdock, the village mayor, is outside the Chantry,” Elissa nodded, “Ser Perth, one of Eamon’s knights is just up the cliff at the windmill, watching the castle.”

She’ll talk to those two, and then come back to the Chantry to take a look at the people. Making sure their defenses were in proper order is the more important of the two.

“To make sure Alistair doesn’t yell at me again,” she said, “I should probably tell you that Loghain probably planned Eamon’s illness, just like how he planned to let King Cailan die at Ostagar.”

“He planned to allow King Cailan to die at Ostagar?!” Teagan asked, “are you certain of this?”

“Not completely, but the information currently available strongly asserts this fact,” she replied, “what have you heard about the Battle of Ostagar?”

“Only that the Teyrn had pulled his troops,” Teagan replied, “though there have been rumors that he had ignored the signal for his men to charge.”

“He never planned to help the King,” she explained, “he was hoping that the signal would never get sent up so that he could give the excuse that he saw Ostagar as a lost cause. The Tower had zero defenses, and not only that but the Darkspawn had occupied it hours before the battle had even started. He’d never planned to aid King Cailan, the beacon going up was just me trying to signal to everyone that something was wrong.”

“Are you absolutely sure of this?” Teagan asked.

“I’m fairly confident in my critical thinking skills,” she nodded, “King Cailan summoned me to the strategy meeting before the battle, I’d heard the entire plan, I witnessed the exchange between the Teyrn and the King, and I saw the state of the Tower. Not only that but if I were to assert control, I’d take out the opposition before it had time to react. So, yes, I think Loghain has something to do with Arl Eamon’s illness. But those are just my thoughts, take it as you will. I just don’t want Alistair to get angry at me again for withholding important information. Granted, I totally understand him getting angry at me for forgetting. I would too.”

“This is… a troubling turn of events,” Teagan replied.

“Well, we’ll go see to the village's defenses for the moment,” she replied, “and we can think more on this later.”

People were terrified, she couldn’t allow this to continue. Despair was a poisonous drought, one that once took root and was hard to shake off. She knew, from experience, two lifetimes of it, in fact.

“You’re a Grey Warden, right? Were you in Ostagar? In the Korcari Wilds?” a Woman said walking up to them, “my husband and son went there to bring the Chant of Light to the Chasind, but I haven’t heard from them since.”

“…Are you Jetta?” she asked, “was your husband Rigby? And your son Jogby?”

“Yes, how did you know that?” Jetta asked, “did you meet them?”

“I’m sorry,” she shook her head sadly retrieving the lock-box from her pack, “I was only able to find their bodies in the Wilds, they’re gone.”

“Oh… oh no,” Jetta sobbed, “I’m sorry. Thank you so much for bringing this to me… It means a lot to…”

“Take your time,” she replied rubbing her back soothingly.

“Maker’s blessing upon you,” Jetta replied after calming herself, “I… I need to…”

“Take your time,” she repeated as the woman left.

She sighed as she watched the woman left, she knew it would turn out like this. She had been wondering where her husband and son were, if they were coming home, if they were doing okay…

“So that’s why you’ve been carrying that around,” Alistair said.

“I do believe that I explained this to you in the Wilds,” she replied, “closure is an important step in the process of healing. Without proper closure, you’ll forever wonder if they’re doing alright, if they’re coming home, or if they’re dead. While it’s still possible for you to come to terms with something without being sure, it’s far more difficult. Knowing for sure is the best way to be able to come to terms with it all and move past it.”

“You have personal experience with this,” Alistair asked, “don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do,” she sighed, “one day, my cousin and I were at home when we heard screaming and shouting… My Mother told us we were not to leave the house and went to go check it out. She didn’t come home, and my Father took a few days to return because of the riot… My cousin and I were huddled together for probably… what? Three days? Waiting for her to come back. By the time my Father came back home, we were on the brink of exhaustion, we hadn’t eaten, or slept. Though I had experiences with it even before then, my cousin, her Mother died when we were six, and her Father had apparently decided to be a dead-beat ass and ditch them to go find the Dalish. It took her a while to come to terms with the fact that he was never coming back.”

“…Kallian,” Leliana said softly.

“Ah, well, that was years ago,” she waved her sleeve around, “the world stops for no one and continues to move forward, so I must as well.”

“How old were you?” Leliana asked.

“Mmm I was twelve, but riots can happen pretty frequently, that’s why she wanted me to get an early start with my training. She didn’t want to regret not having had enough time to pass her training and knowledge on to me,” she replied, “I suppose that’s why I can’t stand by when I see pain and suffering: I’ve been there, I know it sucks, and I’ve never been the type to sit idle when there was something I could do to help.”

Thinking about it, her earlier observation was incorrect. Redcliffe wasn’t like Ostagar… It was more akin to the Alienage right before or even after a riot. The attacks… were probably more in line with how life was like during a riot.

She heard sobbing and naturally gravitated towards the source.

“Sorry, am I bothering you?” the Girl asked, “I… I’ll try to be more quiet.”

“No, it’s fine,” she replied shaking her head “what’s your name?”

“My… my name’s Kaitlyn, my lady,” Kaitlyn replied, “pardon my manners, but… you’re an Elf, aren’t you? I mean, that is what you are, right?”

Urgh… This whole my lady thing was still weird. 

Also, she didn’t blame her for the Elf bit, especially since she’d been trying to unsuccessfully play that card for a while now.

“That I am,” she nodded.

“You’re so, you’re so pretty, I never thought… I mean I never expected… never mind,” Kaitlyn said, “are you going to help us? Everyone says we’re going to die tonight.”

“You’re not all going to die,” she replied, “don’t say that.”

“You… you’re very kind to say that,” Kaitlyn replied, “I wish I could believe you.”

“Don’t worry,” she replied assuringly, “I’m a master tactician.”

“I can’t even sleep,” Kaitlyn said, “ I close my eyes and I see my Mother being… carried off.”

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked.

“It’s my brother, Bevin,” Kaitlyn replied, “he ran off, maybe tried to leave the village! I’m so scared those… things got him!”

“Why would he run off?” she asked, “do you know?”

“He said something about saving Mother… He’s just a little boy!” Kaitlyn sobbed, “he doesn’t understand she’s gone. I hope he didn’t try to go to the castle! Oh, that would be awful!”

“Have you tried looking for him?”

“I went to our house. It’s by the square, he wasn’t there, I searched the rest of the village too,” Kaitlyn replied, “I called and I called but he never answered. I… I wonder if he ran off into the woods. I’m so worried! Without me, he has nobody!”

“You need to be strong,” she replied.

“I understand, I do,” Kaitlyn sobbed, “I’m just so afraid for him.”

“I’ll find him,” she said assuringly.

“You will? Thank you so much!” Kaitlyn said, “please find him!”

“Of course,” she nodded before moving to leave the Chantry.

“That Elf comment didn’t upset you?” Alistair asked.

“How could it upset me,” she replied, "when I’ve been attempting to use that very same card to bail myself out of trouble for the past month or so?"

“…That’s true,” Alistair said, "you have."

“Exactly, I’d be a hypocrite if I got mad at her for that comment,” she nodded before pulling her gloves on with a sigh and leaving the Chantry, “now let’s see about defending this village.”

She probably had her work cut out for her, but she just couldn’t let this stand. Leaving things as they were, went against absolutely everything she stood for.

***

She watched the group leave the Chantry while questions swam through her mind.

Kallian Tabris had been made into a Grey Warden? What about her marriage? Wasn’t she supposed to have gotten married to Nelaros? What had happened?

She should probably refrain from bringing it up, it might be a sensitive topic for her. Perhaps she should just be grateful that their prayers were answered, and that they would be getting aid in Redcliffe. Though it did surprise her, she didn’t think Grey Wardens didn’t fight without armor… Then again, Alistair wore armor, so why didn’t she?

Though, she was right about one thing: Alistair’s defining characteristic being covered in mud was rather funny, she’d almost giggled at that as well.

“Do you think she’s truly a Grey Warden?” Teagan asked.

“Well, she must be,” she replied, “though I did find it odd that she wore no armor.”

“I was thinking that as well,” Teagan nodded.

“Still, she’s just as kind, charismatic, intelligent, and well-mannered as I’ve heard,” she said thoughtfully, “it truly is a shame that these were the circumstances we’d met under.”

“Indeed,” Teagan sighed, “it truly is.”

“So, what can you tell me about Alistair?” she asked, “he seems an amusing sort.”

***

Apparently, living in an Alienage truly was that hard a life.

In fact, it seemed harder than she’d made it out to be.

To him, she seemed amazingly resilient, especially considering that she’d still kept her upbeat personality.

Though, it was also surprising that one only needed to hear her name to know who she was. Was her Father truly well-respected enough that people would know her as well? How did a woman like that become a Grey Warden? Granted, he was grateful that she was one, if she hadn’t been one, after all, he wouldn’t have met her. She also did have a great deal of skill in battle. 

Still, she had mentioned she had never been interested in joining a military organization, nor did she have plans to leave Denerim. To the point where she did not even know anything about the Wardens and did not know where Antiva was. So, why did she decide to become a Grey Warden?

“Still no sign of them coming from the castle, Murdock,” a Man said and Kallian began walking in that direction.

“Tell them to maintain watch,” the person he assumed was Murdock replied, “I don’t want a surprise attack before the sun goes down.”

“Yes, ser,” the Man replied, “what should we do until then?”

“Pray,” Murdock replied, “and hope for a miracle.”

“Hello,” Kallian said, “I’m Kallian, I believe you’ve been informed of us?”

“So you’re the Grey Warden, are you?” Murdock replied, “I didn’t think they made women Grey Wardens.”

For some reason, that comment annoyed him. He was not quite sure why, but it did.

“And why would you think that?” Kallian asked.

“For more reasons than you’d care to hear, I bet. Still, there’s no reason to think Bann Teagan, and Teyrna Elissa’s lost their minds,” Murdock replied, this man was really getting on his nerves, “we aren’t going to turn aside anyone who wants to help, though. Don’t take me for being an ingrate or nothing.”

“That’s good,” he said, and Kallian looked at him with a bit of surprise and curiosity, “the survival rate of ingrates is remarkably low, so I hear.”

She was probably wondering why he was getting annoyed.

“Well, we do want to help, however we can,” Alistair said looking at him with a frown, “you can trust us.”

“Name’s Murdock, mayor of what’s left of the village,” Murdock said finally introducing himself, “providing we aren’t all killed and hauled off to the castle tonight.”

“Have faith,” Kallian said reassuringly, “we’ll get through this.”

She’d been insulted because of her gender, and yet she was still trying to reassure him.

Ah, perhaps that was it: he was annoyed because he’d insulted her. 

Kallian was anything but weak: she could easily handle herself in tests of both wit and might, she was, however, also too understanding to get angry for herself.

“I… I hope you’re right. I’ve been trying to hold us together, but it isn’t easy,” Murdock replied, “anyhow, you’re here, and they tell me you’re in charge.”

“So, you’ll listen to what I tell you?” Kallian asked.

“Yes,” Murdock replied.

“Wonderful,” Kallian replied turning to one of the houses, “we’re going to need to move your barricades.”

She took a few steps back and then sprinted towards the wall at a speed that they were sure she was going to collide with it face first.

And then watched in awe as she leapt up, launched herself up off of the wall, grabbed onto the roof of the house and used her extra momentum to swing herself up to the top of the roof. It was something that she’d clearly done often, her movements were smooth, polished, and graceful.

“Can you do that?” Alistair asked looking at him.

“The Crows do teach us how to climb walls,” he replied, “but not precisely in that manner, no.”

“Whoaaa, this is bad,” Kallian said in a daze.

“What is?” Alistair asked.

“This is, like,” Kallian replied, “perfect napping weather.”

“You truly are a cat,” Morrigan groaned.

“Are you sure we can trust the defense of our village to her?” Murdock asked Alistair.

“Kallian, focus!” Alistair shouted and they heard the sound of a sharp slap.

She’d slapped herself in the face.

“Right, move your barricades where I throw these,” Kallian said before throwing daggers where she wanted them to move the barricades.

“But that’ll just protect the Chantry!” a Man said, “what about us?!”

“Station your archers on the top of the roofs,” Kallian replied, “it’ll give them time to safely line up their shots. Though, I’d suggest pulling up the ladders, just in case.”

They watched Kallian simply step off of the wall and fall straight down.

“You really do have a lot of mobility, don’t you?” Alistair said, “and if I ask you who you are, you’ll just say you’re an inconsequential Elven servant, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, I would, and unlike a certain someone, I didn’t lie about my abilities,” Kallian said glancing in his direction, “I wasn’t lying when I said that no one can navigate Denerim as I can. I can even bounce off of two walls to get more height. I’m quite efficient at getting from Point A to Point B.”

She really wasn’t going to allow him to live down the fact that he lied about being able to pick locks.

“Are you sure you weren’t trained as an assassin?” he asked.

“I’ve just always had to maneuver around as quickly as possible to make sure I had enough time in the day to finish doing everything I needed to get done. Time was a luxury I could rarely afford to waste, not only that, but the back alleys can be dangerous, so it’s safer for me to just avoid being in an easily reachable place just in general,” Kallian explained before clapping her hands, “anyway, chop-chop, move those barricades.”

Time was a luxury she could rarely afford to waste? The Crows really could learn a great deal from looking into this woman’s life. Especially if she’d gained all of these abilities strictly because she’d grown up in poverty. In fact, poverty seemed a far more brutal teacher than any of the Crows. As she was, she could easily become a high ranking member of the Crows. In fact, there were many who would likely target her simply out of jealousy, though he had no doubt that that would be the last of them.

They spent some time moving the barricades, with her picking her daggers back up after each one had been moved. She’d thrown them so that the pommel hit the ground first, her skill truly was undeniable.

“Perhaps you should consider changing occupations,” he noted.

“No thanks, I’m good. Also, you’re the one who told me to think twice about joining. Make up your mind,” Kallian frowned, “I also happen to hate unnecessary violence and bloodshed. I refuse to kill anyone simply for the money. I’ll do it for community service though.”

Community service.

She’d kill people for community service.

He could honestly see that.

“Ah, that’s right, you did mention that some people were…” he said, “how did you put it? ‘Shitty wastes of space who didn’t deserve to even so much as breathe’?”

“Mhm, though I didn’t actually kill anyone until after I met Duncan,” Kallian replied before turning back to Murdock, “anyhow, I have some questions.”

If he remembered correctly, Duncan was Alistair’s father-figure who recruited both of them into the Wardens. She hadn’t killed anyone until she’d entered the Wardens? Why would they recruit her without knowing her abilities? It seemed that she kept the reason she’d been recruited into the Wardens a secret. No one knew even the slightest detail what had transpired to make her decide to join the Wardens.

Not only that, but he felt that there was something deeper to that statement: she’d kill if it were for community service, but she hadn’t actually killed anyone until after becoming a Warden. Had she spent time eliminating people in a different manner? If he were to think about her fighting style, she had no qualms about pitting friend against friend, or rather: she maneuvered around them, manipulating them to take hits for her.

If her skills were widely known, she would likely find herself in high demand.

How had she remained hidden in the Denerim Alienage for so long?

“Oh? Ask away,” Murdock replied.

“Can you tell me what’s happened here?” Kallian asked.

“Don’t rightly know. We heard the Arl was sick and getting worse, but after a while, we heard nothing at all. A few folks went up to the castle to see what was going on. They couldn’t get in. Nobody was there, not a soul,” Murdock answered, “and then those horrid creatures attacked the village. They were everywhere, people dying… it was awful. Good thing Bann Teagan and Teyrna Elissa were here.” 

“Do you know anything about Arl Eamon’s illness?” Kallian asked, “such as symptoms?”

“No, all I know is that the Arlessa sent the knights out for a cure,” Murdock replied causing Kallian to sigh heavily, “you can ask Ser Perth about it— he was one of them.”

“How’s morale?” Kallian asked.

“Morale’s about what you’d expect: these men aren’t soldiers,” Murdock replied, “they’re villagers defending their homes, and they’re frightened.”

“So why have you been stationed here?”

“We’re the last defenders of them folks in the Chantry— the women, elderly, and the children,” Murdock replied, “they’re the ones we need to protect.”

“The weak must learn to protect themselves,” Sten said gruffly.

“That is unworthy of you, Sten,” Leliana replied, “are the Qunari never in need of aid? Are you people so heartless?”

“No Qunari would ever cower helplessly, not woman, nor elder, nor child,” Sten replied, “they would fight for their survival with tooth and nail.”

“I’ve had to do that before,” Kallian sighed, “it’s rough.”

“Oh? Against Darkspawn?” he asked.

“Not quite,” Kallian sighed, but it was clear that she was not going to explain that statement any further.

She was shrouded in such an air of mystery, he was sure that she’d drive anyone mad with desire, and yet she’d been left alone to the point where she thought herself undesirable. Were the men in the Denerim Alienage, what? Blind? Deaf? Stupid?

“Well… We’re not Qunari,” Murdock replied, “I’m not asking those folk to fight monsters. No matter what happens, we can’t let them evil things in there. If they die, the village is done.”

“So, what can I do to help?” Kallian asked, “other than fight.”

“We need what little armor and weapons we got repaired, and quickly or half of us will be fighting without either,” Murdock explained, “Owen’s the only blacksmith who can do it, but the stubborn fool refuses to even talk. If we’re to be ready for tonight, we’ll need that crotchety bastard’s help.”

“Kallian fights without armor,” he decided to point out.

“Yes, but that’s because I _can’t wear armor_ , also because I don’t _understand_ armor… Elves who wear armor and weapons aren’t ones who live long: the City Guard will always go out of their way to put them down. Living under that kind of oppression makes you have to adapt to your new circumstances, learn the rules so that you can break them more efficiently, and know how to get away with it,” Kallian explained before turning back to Murdock, “why has Owen refused to talk to anyone?”

…And he thought living and growing up under the Crows was hard. Not only did she have to fight against poverty, but also a degree of oppression that made her unable to even understand how to wear armor. It was no wonder she moved the way she did, if she hadn’t learned to fight that way, she would not have survived. Learn the rules so that you can break them efficiently and know how to get away with it, hm? Interesting.

She had said that she’d probably never have survived living life under the Crows, but he doubted that many of the Crows would have survived living under the same kind of life she had. Though, it did explain the alarming amount of strength and resilience she had.

“His daughter, Valena, is one of the Arlessa’s maids. So he hasn’t heard from her since this whole business started,” Murdock explained, “he demanded we attack the castle, break down the gate, and force our way in. I said it was impossible, but he wouldn’t listen. He’s locked himself in the smithy now. I can’t force him to do repairs… He says he’d rather die first.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Kallian replied, “is there anything else?”

“We could use some extra bodies, having a veteran like Dwyn in the militia would help, a lot,” Murdock replied, “but he flat out refuses.”

“What can you tell me about him?” Kallian asked.

“He’s a trader, a Dwarf. Lives near the lake. Locked himself up in his home with some of his workers, he has,” Murdock explained, “says he doesn’t need any of us. But we could use somebody with his fighting experience, but he won’t come out.”

“I’m sure I can work something out,” Kallian replied.

“Just don’t drink with Owen! That’s how he sucks you in!” Murdock replied, “just my luck our success hinges on the most foolish drunk of a smith ever to grace the Maker’s lands!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Kallian replied wryly.

“You’ve been staring at Kallian a great deal, Zevran,” Morrigan pointed out, “are you planning to finish the job? What is going to keep you from poisoning your target now that you have been allowed to accompany us, I wonder.”

“You and Diana are,” he replied dryly, “you will both be watching me ever so closely to make sure I attempt no such thing.”

Diana really had been staring at him practically daring him to do something, ever since he’d met them, in fact.

“And why would I do such a thing?” Morrigan scoffed, “sneaking into our good graces in order to make another attempt is what I would do, were I you.”

“And here I was becoming rather fond of the idea of you watching me closely,” he said.

“It would be a simple enough matter to poison the food in camp,” Morrigan replied, “or cut our throats while we sleep.”

“You seem rather charmed by the idea,” he replied.

“It would seem an appropriate result of sparing your life,” Morrigan said simply.

“Ah, well, I’m sorry to disappoint you then,” he sighed, “the next time I am spared I will be sure to immediately turn upon my benefactors. Will that do? And do not forget: Kallian has already poisoned herself with my poisons.”

“It’s true, I did,” Kallian said, “however, I did it in dosages that I knew would be non-lethal to me. Not only that, but I’m not immune to having my throat cut in my sleep.”

“Hmm… If I had to do anything while you were in your bedroll,” he grinned, “I would much rather make love to you than slit your throat.”

“Whoaaa, crazy… I didn’t think you’d just come out and say it like that,” Kallian said in shock, “how surprising.”

“Oh? So, then, my dear,” he grinned sidling up to her, “what are the chances that you and I will end up in the same bed?”

“Sorry, but I seem to suddenly have selective hearing and thusly have not heard your last statement,” Kallian said blankly before knocking on a door, “excuse me, is this the Blacksmiths?”

“Hmmm, I truly shall have to re-double my efforts,” he said thoughtfully as Alistair snorted.

Kallian certainly was a cheeky one. 

He knew that she truly didn’t mind his advances, especially considering the fact that she wasn’t the type of person who would simply sit there and allow someone to disrespect her without swift retribution. She was kind and understanding, sure, but she had a backbone and clearly knew how to use it.

“Go away, curse you! Leave me in peace!” Owen replied through the door, “you’ve already taken everything out of my stores! There’s nothing left.”

“I would simply like to speak with you,” Kallian replied.

“Oh? Who is that?” Owen asked, “what do you want? I’ve been through enough…”

“I’d prefer not to speak through the door,” Kallian said calmly, “can I come in?”

“Hmm… Alright, alright, let me undo the locks,” Owen replied as they heard the sound of locks being undone, “all I ask is that you don’t make any trouble.”

He, Leliana, and Alistair decided to follow her into the Blacksmith. He was just curious about her, the other two? Likely worried what he would do, though, their concerns were completely unfounded. He had no plans to kill her, far from it, in fact.

In many ways, they seemed like opposites, but in other ways, they were shockingly similar.

***

A blacksmith.

They were entering a smithy.

“Maker’s breath!” Leliana gasped, “what is that smell? It’s like someone set a brewery on fire.”

“Somebody’s been drinking,” Alistair said with a lilt.

“So I let you in. You wanted to talk, now we’re talking,” Owen said leaning against a pillar, “mind telling me who you are?”

“My name is Kallian,” she replied with a polite bow, “a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Is this… is this wha— she should stop thinking about this. About things that can and will never be. There are things to be done, she can spend time alone later.

“Funny, you didn’t sound like an Elf through the door,” Owen replied, “can’t say I expected that.”

“Can’t say I blame you,” she replied wryly, “I certainly wouldn’t either.”

“Anyhow, my name’s Owen… though you might already know that,” Owen replied, “care to join me as I get besotted? Or is there something in particular you wanted?”

“The militia desperately needs your aid,” she replied.

“Why should I help Murdock when he won’t help me, hmm?” Owen scoffed, “my girl, Valena, is one of the Arlessa’s maids and she’s trapped up there in the castle, but the Mayor won’t send anyone for her. She’s been my life since my wife passed on two years ago. Now she’s dead or soon to be. I don’t care what happens to me, or the village, or anyone.”

“Or you could work to help save her,” she said.

“I’m an old man. Everyone knows we aren’t making it through the night,” Owen replied, “or are you going to save us?”

“Of course I am,” she replied with a confident grin.

“Is that so? Huh,” Owen replied, “maybe it’s the drink talking, but you almost sound like you believe that.”

“I shouldn’t almost sound like I believe it,” she said, “because I do believe it.”

“Tell you what, if you want me to do repairs for Murdock and his men,” Owen said, “promise me you’ll go into the castle and find my daughter.”

“I will,” she replied.

“Not good enough! Murdock said the same damned thing and I didn’t believe him, either,” Owen replied, “I want a promise. Promise me that you’ll look for her, that you’ll bring her back to me if you can.”

“I’ll do you one better,” she replied with a serious expression, “I swear to you that I will get into that castle and find your daughter. Even if I have to break in there alone.”

“You sound confident in that,” Owen noted.

“I should,” she said, “because I am. I don’t deal in false promises.”

“It seems I have some work to do, re-lighting the forge and I suppose I’ll have to find some iron. Hmm, maybe at the mill?” Owen said obviously beginning to get his mind set on this, “bah, Murdock just better send his men here as soon as possible if I’m gonna get to all these repairs and get them done by nightfall. If you need anything done… well, just let me know. I’ve got a lot to do now, so you’ll have to excuse me.”

“Do you really think you can break into Redcliffe castle on your own?” Alistair asked after they’d left the smithy.

“Of course, especially if there are no guard rotations. I actually could have broken into most of the castles in Denerim,” she replied, “the only reason I didn’t was because I had no reason to, I just knew their guard rotations and everything so that they wouldn’t annoy me when I climbed over the rooftops at night.”

“You could have stolen something and sold it for coin,” Zevran pointed out.

“I’d have no way of selling it, only idiots steal valuables without securing a proper way of getting rid of said stolen good. Not only that but if I were caught I wouldn’t be the only one punished: the splash damage from it would affect my entire family. Especially considering that my Father is known throughout nobility,” Kallian explained, “I have to think about these things, y’know? I’m not the only one involved in my life, my actions affect the world around me. I know this, and thus, I must consider my options and make informed decisions… As I’ve said before, I’m quite confident in my critical thinking skills.”

Plus she’s had two lifetimes worth of experiences to draw from, even if she could only vaguely recall events from her past life, she still retained all of the knowledge she’d grasped from it. She may have not been the brightest, but she had always been incredibly curious about everything that seemed interesting.

“How do you know all of that, but not where Antiva is?” Alistair asked.

“My thought process when encountering information I don’t find interesting or relevant to my daily life, is basically,” she sighed, “I don’t really care and it’d just be a pain to remember it… So let’s just forget it!”

“For someone who never planned to join a military organization,” Alistair pointed out, “you sure know a lot about strategy and tactics.”

“I’m a quick learner, and I’m also good at learning on the fly,” she explained, “I’m also good at swiftly analyzing new situations, considering my options, and making a decision based on readily available information. That’s all strategy and tactics are: being able to analyze a situation, consider your options, and being able to make logical and informed decisions. These are skills I utilized quite frequently in the Alienage, and I already know how skills can play into each other. So, I simply changed my way of thinking and applied those skills in a different manner.”

In her past life, she was good at splitting her mind off into two parts. She knew this because she had a habit of playing tic-tac-toe against herself when she was bored, she would actively assume both player positions and bait out the other side of her in order to win. It was weird, sure, but once she got into it, she really got into it.

“So, tell me, my dear,” Zevran grinned, “how often did you use these skills to break the rules?”

“At least once a week,” she said returning his grin.

Now, let’s see, she’ll look for Bevin, and then talk to Dwyn, then head up to Ser Perth. She glanced to the sky, they were still making good time, it was barely past noon if she was reading it right. Interacting with people sometimes felt longer than it actually was, she recalled having some conversations that seemed to stretch on hours, or have a lot said despite apparently being only fifteen minutes long. Most of those types of conversations tended to come from deep within.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Tao Te Ching Chapter Sixteen_


	17. How the Cat Defended Redcliffe

She entered Kaitlyn’s house deciding that the best course of action for finding Bevin was to look for clues as to where he might have gone. Sometimes, some children ran away from the orphanage back in the Alienage after a riot. They didn’t want to accept the fact that their parents were dead and their new situation, and quite frankly, she never blamed them. Many of them simply returned to their houses, or the charred ruins of it, anyway.

“Pardon the intrusion,” she said quietly as she entered the house, “and sorry for going through your things.”

“Why are you saying sorry?” Alistair asked, “there’s nobody here.”

“Shht! I think I hear someone,” she said moving towards the dresser, “hello? Is someone hiding in there?”

“Go away! This isn’t your home!” the Voice, Bevin’s probably, replied, “this is my home! My home! You hear me?!”

“Bevin?” she asked, “is that you?”

“How… how do you know my name?” Bevin replied.

“I spoke to your sister,” she replied.

“Did… did she tell you to take me back to the Chantry?” Bevin asked, “don’t make me go back there! I hate that place! I hate it!”

“Your sister is worried sick!” she chastised, “you can’t just run off like that!”

“But she just tells me not to be scared, even though she is! She tells me not to be sad, but she keeps crying because Mother died,” Bevin retorted, “I… I don’t want to be sad! I’m brave! I’m going to be a hero! I’m going to fight them off, I will!”

“…From inside the closet?” she quirked a brow.

“N—no… I just heard you coming and…” Bevin replied, “I guess that’s not very brave of me, is it? I’ll… I’ll come out now.”

“Good,” she sighed as he left the closet.

“Alright, I came out. You won’t hurt me, will you?” Bevin asked, “I’ll go back to the Chantry if you really want.”

“What on earth led you to return here?” she asked.

“I… I can’t tell you,” Bevin replied, “it’s a secret.”

“Oh? Is it something I can help you with?” she asked.

“You… could, I guess,” Bevin replied, “I just… Father said I could have his sword when I grew up. It was Grandfather’s, and Grandfather was a great dragon-slayer. I thought… if I was brave like Grandfather, I could use his sword and… kill the bad people who took Mother.”

“Well, you’re a little young for that,” she said wryly, “but it was a brave idea.”

“Th— thank you, miss,” Bevin replied, “but the sword is too heavy for me. I… guess I’m not as strong as I thought I was.”

“I have an idea,” she closed her eyes in thought, “how about, I borrow it to help with the assault, and then hand it back? This way, you can say you helped, and your sword defended the village.”

“Will you really give it back?” Bevin asked.

“Of course I would,” she grinned, “I don’t deal in false promises.”

“…Alright, here’s the key,” Bevin replied handing her the key, “it’s in the chest upstairs. I hope you use it to kill a lot of those bad people.”

“Thank you,” she replied with a smile.

“I should… go back to the Chantry,” Bevin replied before leaving, “good luck.”

She hummed as she moved to the upstairs chest, hoping that she could wield it in one hand. Honestly, she could have picked the lock, but she used the key. Looked like a one-handed weapon, she picked it up and tested the weight of it giving it a few experimental swings. She could use this in battle, which was good news, otherwise, she’d have to hand it over to Alistair.

“Let’s see,” she sighed, “I think Dwyn’s house is… that one…”

For some reason, some really really really strange reason. Rather than politely knock on the door. She felt the need to pick the lock open, and she couldn’t decide on whether she actually followed through with that desire or not.

She knocked.

No answer.

“Hey, Zevran,” she said turning to him with a grin, “wanna pick this lock open for me?”

“No, no I do not,” Zevran frowned at her.

“Y— You sure?” she asked trying to keep herself from laughing.

“Very,” Zevran replied dryly.

“Don’t worry,” she sighed kneeling down to pick the lock, “I’m also probably going to forever remember that Alistair’s most defining feature is _covered in mud_.”

“Please don’t,” Alistair groaned.

“Too bad,” she grinned.

“Go learn where Antiva is,” Alistair grumbled.

“I’ll think about it,” she replied hearing the lock click open, “but geography’s never been an interest of mine, and I currently have no plans of traveling abroad.”

“That is a shame,” Zevran replied, “I think you would enjoy it. Visiting Antiva, that is.”

“The thought of having the time and money to go on a vacation is jarringly weird,” she replied opening the door.

“Wonderful. Intruders,” a Dwarf, Dwyn, she guessed said, “I hope you've got a good reason for breaking and entering into my home.”

“I apologize,” she replied, “I didn’t mean any harm.”

“Apology accepted. The name’s Dwyn, pleased to meet you,” Dwyn replied, “now get out.”

“Murdock would like your assistance with the militia,” she said.

“So, what? You’re recruiting for him?” Dwyn replied, “I’ll tell you what I told Murdock: I’m not risking my neck for this town.”

“Your chances are better out there,” she replied, “than in here.”

“Thanks, but I’ll take my chances in here,” Dwyn replied, “everyone else can run around in the open, waiting to die.”

“Can I show you something?” she asked with a sigh.

“Make it quick,” Dwyn said.

“Close and lock the door again behind me,” she replied before leaving.

“What are you doing?” Alistair asked.

“Just… illustrating a point,” she sighed.

She took a few steps back from the door, and fell into a stance, took a step and launched a brutal side kick into the door, breaking it open.

“I am one person, that was one hit,” she said, “tonights going to be the worst attack, you can fight out with the rest of the militia or stay here. If you stay here, that’s fine with me, they’ll break your door down, and go for you, and do you know what that’ll do? It’ll give our archers more time to line up their shots and take them out while they’re busy killing you. You can stay in here and get swarmed, or you can fight with the rest of them out there. The choice is yours.”

“Fine, I’ll throw in the militia, for now,” Dwyn grumbled, “not like I have a choice since you broke my door. You better be out there, too, when the sun goes down. I’m not fighting for a lost cause, you hear me?”

“Yep,” she replied as Dwyn left, “ooph, it’s been a while since I kicked something that hard.”

“Did you have to kick the door down?” Alistair asked.

“Probably not, but I’m feeling a little cranky,” she shrugged, “ah, we should eat something.”

She was also kind of sleepy, but there was no time for a nap. Well, not yet anyway.

“Now that you mention it,” Leliana replied, “I am kind of hungry.”

After reporting back to Murdock and checking up on Kaitlyn they took a food break, heading into the tavern.

***

There was a suspicious man in the corner of the Tavern, an Elf.

And he, Leliana, and Kallian had picked up on it right away, so now Kallian was talking to the serving girl, Bella. A strange look had crossed her face as her eyes slid over to Lloyd who was behind the bar, and he had a feeling that the man wouldn’t be alive for much longer. Especially considering that the woman had told her about what Lloyd had done to her.

“I’m not looking for company,” Berwick said as Kallian approached.

“I hear that your names Berwick,” Kallian replied ignoring him after eye-ing the bow on his back, “and shouldn’t you be with the militia?”

“Why? I don’t live here,” Berwick replied, “and how do you know my name?”

“I asked around,” Kallian replied, “and I heard that you were waiting for your brother?”

“My what? Oh…” Berwick’s eyes widened in shock.

“I see,” Kallian replied as she went in for the kill, her hand shooting forth to grab the man by the bottom of his face, forcing him to make eye contact with her, a malicious sneer decorating her face. She truly was a beautiful monster, especially with that dangerous glint in her eyes. He wasn’t lying when he said that she looked like a deadly sex goddess. Especially the eyes of a cold-blooded ruthless killer. Or perhaps she was more a sexy death goddess?

“It’ll be easier if you just tell us what you’re really here for,” he said, “otherwise… well, I’m sure three out of the four of us know how to make a man talk.”

“I’ll tell you! Just don’t… don’t hurt me,” Berwick replied quickly, almost frozen in terror and she let him go, “this is more than I bargained for. Look, they just paid me to watch the castle and send word if anything should change. But they never said anything about monsters! I haven’t even been able to report anything since this started! I’m stuck, same as you, I swear!”

“Who are ‘they’?” Leliana asked, “who hired you to do this?”

“A tall fellow, I forget his name,” Berwick replied, “he, uhhh, said he was working for Howe. Arl Rendon Howe. He’s an important man, Teyrn Loghain’s right hand! So I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Hm, Howe, huh?” Kallian mumbled, “I wonder if either Elissa or Teagan can tell us more about him…”

“What are you supposed to watch the castle for?” Alistair asked.

“Just to report any changes, honest!” Berwick replied, “all I could send word about was the Arl getting sick. After that, monsters started coming from the castle.”

“Did you report anything about Elissa and Teagan being here?” Kallian asked dangerously.

“No! I didn’t! I swear!” Berwick replied quickly.

“You know what’ll happen if you do, right?” Kallian grinned darkly, and the man’s words failed him as he just furiously nodded his head, “so, do you know how this began?”

“No, they just sent me to watch,” Berwick answered, “maybe they knew the Arl would get sick, I don’t know.”

“They knew he would get sick, huh?” Kallian sighed heavily.

“Here, this is a letter from them,” Berwick said handing Kallian a letter, “it has instructions and everything… keep it! Do whatever you want with it! I just thought I was serving the King and making a bit of coin on the side. You have to believe me!”

“You’re helping defend the village tonight,” Kallian replied with a glare, “I think that should be a good enough trade for your life.”

“Alright, I’ll do it,” Berwick replied, “thank you for your mercy, I won’t forget it!”

Kallian sighed, crossed her arms, closed her eyes and leaned against the wall, probably trying to switch back.

“Well, guess you were right then,” Alistair sighed looking to Kallian, “the Arl’s illness isn’t just a coincidence.”

“We’ll have to tell Teagan,” Kallian sighed the look on her face screaming ‘what a pain’, “well, let’s eat something for now, and then continue on with preparations and such.”

Kallian hummed in thought, he had a feeling she was thinking of a way to get rid of them so that she could kill Lloyd without being yelled at by Leliana and Alistair. He stayed behind after she’d sent the two away, promising that she’d meet them at Ser Perth as she talked to Lloyd. The man truly was dead in seconds, perhaps he could convince her to go into business with him once this whole Blight business was over with, she certainly had the skills for it.

“Community service complete,” Kallian grinned looking at him after handing ownership of the tavern over to Bella, a finger over her lips, “it’s a secret.”

“Do not fret, my dear,” he replied returning her grin, “my lips are sealed.”

***

They met the others at Ser Perth, and told her that Ser Perth wants divine protection, which is something she could understand and deal with, so she returned to the Chantry.

“Your Ladyship,” she said turning to Elissa, “I’ve a question, if I may.”

“Please, just Elissa is fine,” Elissa replied shaking her head, “and what do you need to know?”

“What do you know about Arl Howe?” she asked, and the look on her face told her everything she needed to know.

“That vile, hateful, murderer betrayed my Father, and killed my family,” Elissa hissed angrily, “his men killed my sister-in-law, my nephew, my parents, and every servant who lived and worked in Highever Castle. I’m here in Redcliffe because he betrayed us because I needed Arl Eamon’s help dealing with him.”

“Ah, okay, he’s a dead man walking, got it,” she nodded, “we found a suspicious person in the tavern, an Elf by the name of Berwick. He’d been hired to watch the castle and report if there were any changes… I made sure he hadn’t said anything about the both of you, and… he gave me this note… My suspicions were confirmed: Arl Eamon’s illness isn’t a coincidence.”

“He also said that Howe was Loghain’s right-hand man,” Alistair added, “so if we’re to deal with Loghain, chances are we’ll have to deal with him as well.”

“This is… To think that Teyrn Loghain would stoop so low as to having Eamon poisoned,” Teagan said in shock, “this is outrageous!”

“In any case, we should see to the rest of the preparations,” she said, “we can discuss the rest of this after we deal with defending the village.”

“Indeed,” Teagan nodded, “this is a lot that we need to think on.”

She nodded before heading over to the Revered Mother.

“You are of Elven blood and a stranger,” the Revered Mother said looking to her, “yet you defend a home that is not your own. We are grateful for that.”

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?” she asked tilting her head to the side.

“Many Elves claim we wouldn’t do the same in return,” the Revered Mother replied, “I would like to think that is not true, but I cannot speak for all.”

“Oh, it is true, very true, I’ve watched our houses burning down, heard people screaming for help without the City Guard even so much as lifting a finger to help,” she waved her sleeve around, “but in most cases, Elves who live in cities don’t even know the first thing about defending themselves because the City Guard go out of their way to execute any Elf who even shows the smallest signs of being able to fight. I only got away with it because my Mother made sure that I knew and understood this from an early age. So in the first place, not showing signs of hostility, especially around Humans, is ingrained into our minds from an early age to make sure we live longer lives.”

“I… I don’t know what to say…” the Revered Mother said in absolute shock, “I… For now, allow me to introduce myself; I am Revered Mother Hannah, head of this Chantry… which, for the moment, is a place of refuge for these poor villagers.”

“Is this everyone that’s left?” she asked looking around.

“All those who cannot defend themselves, yes,” Mother Hannah replied, “they are terrified of tonight’s attack, and I fear these walls will not keep them safe. What can I do to help with your task?”

“Ser Perth would like holy protection for the knights,” she said.

“I have done all I can for them. I pray for them each night, and seek the Maker’s forgiveness for their sins before they face their deaths,” Mother Hannah replied, “what Ser Perth seeks is something that is not in my power to give.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Ser Perth believes that I can protect them against these creatures, a shield only the Maker can provide, and that I withhold this power,” Mother Hannah said.

“Does he not realize that it is his faith alone which must sustain him?” Leliana asked, “it is faith alone which will bring the Maker’s aid.”

If Morrigan were here, she’d be rolling her eyes so hard she’d need a new pair. Even she had to resist the urge to roll hers. Prayers would do absolutely nothing in this situation, what they needed was confidence and reassurance.

“Unfortunately, he seeks the Maker’s protection in a far too literal sense,” Mother Hannah replied, “this is something I cannot promise nor provide.”

“Can’t you just give them an amulet or something?” she asked tilting her head to the side.

“You mean you want me to let them think the Maker protects them in a real sense?” Mother Hannah frowned, “I will not lie to them like that!”

“Why not? It will give them inner peace, and a calm mind, these are both important in battles,” she replied, “for it is only with inner peace and a calm mind that we may fight to the full extent of our true abilities. Will you truly deny them this?”

Personally, she wasn’t religious in the least, she had no desire to worship the Maker in any way, shape, or form. She simply trusted her own body. However, she knew the importance of a calm mind and inner peace, especially since she’d lost her own.

“Very well, if it’ll help keep them alive, I will do what I must,” Mother Hannah sighed after a bit of thought, “I have a number of silver-cast holy symbols. Tell Ser Perth that he can have them, and that wearing them will confer the Maker’s protection… Now, please… let me tend to these poor folk. I must do what I can, and I suggest you do the same.”

“You know, my dear,” Zevran said thoughtfully, “out of battle, you move quite loudly for a rogue.”

“Ahhhh… yeah,” she sighed, “force of habit… I had to make a conscious effort to make noise… Otherwise, my cousins would yell at me.”

“Oh?” Zevran quirked a brow.

“Mhm, they even threatened to put a bell on me,” she frowned and Alistair snorted.

“A bell?” Leliana giggled, “do they really think that you are that much of a cat?”

“Apparently,” she replied.

She returned to Ser Perth with the amulets, and gave Leliana a sharp look, to keep her from saying anything. They were still making good time.

Still, dealing with zombies? In her last life, she fell into the group of ‘best to just let them bite you and get it over with’.

“I have an idea,” she said, “why don’t we use some barricades or crates and make a wall to bottleneck them into one area? It should help us control the flow of battle a bit better.”

“That is a fantastic idea,” Ser Perth nodded before ordering his men to follow through with her suggestion.

She wondered if she’d have time for a nap, she had a feeling she wouldn’t be getting any sleep. She spotted something familiar, Andraste’s Grace. She picked them and handed them to Leliana.

“Hmmm? Flowers?” Leliana replied accepting them with a confused expression, “uh, thank you. They’re… very pretty.”

“They’re Andraste’s Grace,” she said and Leliana stared down at the petals in shock.

“These were… these were Mother’s favorite! Oh, I haven’t seen these in such a long time!” Leliana gasped, “they smell just like Mother used to.”

“I’m used to hunting them down… When my cousin wasn’t feeling well, she’d demand I find one and bring it back to her,” she closed her eyes thoughtfully, “I remember crawling over the rooftops grumbling about how much of a pain it was.”

“But you did it anyway,” Leliana smiled softly, “thank you… thank you so much for remembering.”

Thinking about it, she never really asked Leliana about her vision. Perhaps she’ll ask her about it some other time, though right now there was something else she was curious about.

***

“I heard that in Orlais,” Kallian said thoughtfully after the others had meandered away to help Ser Perth move barricades and crates, “minstrels are often spies.”

“Where did you hear this?” she asked suspiciously.

“I read it in a history book,” Kallian closed her eyes in thought, “or rather, my cousin read it in a book, and then badgered me about it until I read it too.”

“And you believe everything you read?” she chuckled, “not all minstrels are spies, most are just singers and storytellers. But some of them are… are what we call bards.”

“I thought minstrels were bards,” Kallian replied seriously.

“Many use the two words ‘minstrel’ and ‘bard’ interchangeably, but to do so in Orlais would cause misunderstanding,” she explained, “bards are minstrels and more. Spies, as you say. Some say there is a bard order, but I don’t think this is true… Many bards work alone, or in small groups, doing the bidding of a patron who pays for their services. If there is an organization behind it all, no one knows who they are.”

“Doesn’t the monarchy govern them?” Kallian asked.

“The Empress must have her own bards at her disposal, I suppose, but many are more… self-serving, in Orlais there is much rivalry amongst the high-born. They fight over land, influence, and the favor of the Empress. But they cannot do this openly, because it is impolite, and in public, they wear smiling faces and pretend to be civil,” she explained, “in secret, they plot and scheme to destroy each other. It is a game completely meaningless to anyone but its players.”

“Whoaaa…” Kallian said, “you seem to know quite a bit about them. Bards, that is.”

“And I should, shouldn’t I? After having spent most of my adult life as one,” she sighed, “you’ve guessed as much, I’m sure… But does it really matter what I was? What’s past is past.”

“I had suspicions,” Kallian replied, “but I didn’t want to push it if you didn’t want to talk about it. Everyone has a secret or two from their past they don’t want to be known… I suppose that’s how you learned to fight like that.”

“My skills served me well, but the day finally came when I decided to just put them aside,” she nodded, Kallian didn’t like discussing her recruitment, so she knew that she wouldn’t have pushed it, “I… found myself in Ferelden and sheltered from bad weather in the Chantry. And when the storm had passed, I just… did not want to leave. I like to say that the Maker brought me here.”

“I suppose you could say that,” Kallian nodded, “since now you’re helping defend Ferelden against the Blight.”

“This is true,” she replied with a soft smile.

***

Kallian was off having a pleasant chat with Leliana, Alistair was down in the Chantry, the man seemed enamored with a certain Teyrna. Sten was speaking with Ser Perth, and Diana was laying at Kallian’s feet.

And Morrigan was eye-ing him.

“You do still intend to kill your target, do you not?” Morrigan asked him, “is your reputation not on the line?”

“Are you still on about this, woman?” he sighed, she still thought he was going to kill them.

“I am led to believe that the Crows would never permit such a transgression,” Morrigan replied, “they will come after you, and in force.”

“It has come to my attention,” he replied, “that the Crows are not always successful when pit against Grey Wardens and their companions.”

“Perhaps they will send someone more competent next time,” Morrigan replied simply.

“You wound me,” he replied.

“I have considered doing far more than that,” Morrigan replied, “trust me.”

“Perhaps next time,” Kallian snickered, “they’ll send someone who can actually pick locks.”

“Have you ever been told how cruel you are, my dear?” he frowned.

“Yes, by you, actually,” Kallian laughed.

“Then you do not fear the Crows at all?” Morrigan asked.

“I think of it more as my desire to leave them far exceeds the fear I possess of them,” he sighed.

“You think the Grey Wardens will give you safe harbor once this is all done?” Morrigan asked, “surely you are not so naive.”

“I am willing to take my chances,” he replied.

“And if you are wrong?” Morrigan asked.

“Then I will be dead,” he said simply, “one does not do what I do and fear death so very greatly.”

“There are fates worse than death,” Morrigan replied.

“And one of them is being unable to choose which master you serve,” he sighed, “trust me, my dear, I am well pleased with my current direction… Though that does bring an interesting question to mind.”

His eyes fell on Kallian, who had quite easily captured his interest. 

In many ways, Kallian was like Rinna, but in truth, even he had to admit that Rinna paled in comparison. He shouldn’t let someone's beauty and clever wit move him, not anymore, and especially considering what had happened to Rinna. But Kallian was absolutely impossible to ignore. Not only that, but it seemed she'd seen through a veteran general like Loghain with ease, and quickly planned and executed her own countermeasures, something which had proven to be immensely successful. Especially considering that Loghain had considered her dangerous and a threat after meeting only once. Though, anyone moving against her would likely find themselves thinking much the same.

But she was beautiful, strong, clever, witty, charming, dangerous, elegant, graceful, mysterious, and very deadly. A beautiful monster lurked within her, he had only seen small glimpses of it, but he knew it was there.

“Fueh? Why are you looking at me?” Kallian tilted her head to the side, “oh, it’s a question for me?”

“Well here is the thing: I swore an oath to serve you, yes? And I understand the quest you’re on and this is all very fine and well,” he replied, “my question pertains to what you intend to do with me once this business is over with. As a point of curiosity.”

“Does your oath expire then?” Kallian asked.

“Not precisely, I said I would serve you until you saw fit to release me,” he said, “one simply assumes that, once your Grey Warden business is finished, you would have no need of an assassin to follow you about. Am I wrong?”

“I’m not holding you to any oath, Zevran,” Kallian replied with a quirked brow, “you could go if you wanted.”

“Oh? Could I?” he replied, “and what if I didn’t wish to leave?”

“Well, that’s what freedom is,” Kallian laughed, “freedom is being able to choose where you want to go, what you want to do, and whatever whenever you want.”

And he realized something:

Freedom.

She’d given him freedom.

Something he’d never even thought was possible for him to achieve, in one simple sentence, she’d given it to him as if it were as simple as breathing.

“Oh? I made the oath willingly, but if that’s how you see it, then all the better,” he grinned, “for the moment, it’s still best I stay, considering my standing with the Crows.”

“Why do I have the feeling that’s not the only reason you want to stay?” Kallian asked wryly.

“Well, let’s assume that I didn’t desire to leave, when the time came,” he replied, “what then?”

“Like I said, that’s what freedom is: being your own master,” Kallian laughed, “making your own decisions, living life the way you want to… So if you don’t want to go, then don’t. It’s as simple as that.”

“I see…” he replied thoughtfully, “it is good to know what my options might be…”

“It is always nice to know one's options, yes,” Kallian nodded with a grin.

He highly doubted that she had even realized the effect her words had on him. He highly doubted that she knew the effect her words had on anyone, not just him.

And he couldn’t help but find himself wanting her in more ways than one.

***

Kallian’s preparations for the village were well thought out, and he had no doubt their losses would be dramatically cut down, and now they were holding a strategy meeting in the Chantry.

“We’ll have Leliana and Morrigan in the village proper,” Kallian said, “stationed on the roofs, and the melee fighters will stay up here by the windmill. If you need help, send up a flame arrow as a signal and I’ll break off and come assist.”

“Just you?” Teagan asked.

“Yes, just me should be enough,” Kallian nodded, “plus, I can get down there the fastest while wasting as little energy as possible… Though, I honestly doubt you’ll need my help. If they begin swarming the Chantry, and breaking through the barricades, try calling them back over to you. Remember to pull the ladders up once the siege starts. I don’t know if they’ll be able to climb them or not, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“I’ll stay by the windmill to help in the battle,” Elissa said.

“With the defenses and barricades set,” Kallian said, “we should be able to keep casualties to an absolute minimum… Aim for their heads, I doubt they’ll be able to continue moving without them, and remember: they can’t get to you so breathe and take your time lining up your shots.”

“I have a good feeling about tonight,” Murdock nodded.

“As do I,” Ser Perth agreed.

“For now, we should get as much rest in as we can,” Kallian sighed, “especially if we’re to go all out tonight.”

“You just want to take a nap, don’t you?” Alistair asked.

“I’ve been using my brain non-stop since we got here,” Kallian pouted, “of course I’m sleepy.”

“You are not quite as callow as I thought,” he said, “that is… unexpected.”

“Fueh?” Kallian tilted her head to the side.

“You sound surprised. You must have heard this before,” he replied, “you’ll get over it. Eventually.”

“I see,” Kallian replied, “why did you come to Ferelden, anyway?”

“I was sent to be the eyes of the _antaam_ ,” he replied, “the _Arishok_ asked, ‘What is the Blight?’ by his curiosity, I am now here.”

“Don’t you have to report back?” Kallian asked.

“Yes.”

“Are you going to do it after all this is settled?”

“No,” he replied, “I cannot go home.”

“Why not?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What were you doing in that cage?” Kallian asked, “I have a feeling you could have easily escaped.”

“Does it matter? Very well,” he sighed, “I caged myself. A weak mind is a deadly foe, as you are no doubt aware.”

“I… am quite aware,” Kallian sighed as a strange expression crossed her face, she had personal experience with this. Though she would likely dodge any inquiries into it, just as she’s dodged all other inquiries into her past, “power without control is a dangerous thing.”

“It is,” he nodded, “I came to your lands with seven of the _Beresaad_ — my brothers — to seek answers about the Blight. We made our way across the Ferelden countryside without incident, seeing nothing of the threat we were sent to observe… Until the night we camped by Lake Calenhad. They came from everywhere: the earth beneath our feet, the air above us, our own shadows harbored the Darkspawn. I saw the last of the creatures cut down, too late. I fell.”

“That sounds like what happened to me at Ostagar,” Kallian sighed, “just as I was about to collapse from exhaustion, we were swarmed by even more Darkspawn. I couldn’t move the way I wanted to because of the armor I didn’t have time to kick off, and in my last act of desperation I threw Alistair behind me and took the brunt of it.”

“I heard the stories of Ostagar, your kith stood their ground when others fled,” he nodded, “no one can do more than that… Especially considering what you’ve said on the subject… I don’t know how long I lay on the battlefield among the dead, nor do I know how the farmers found me. I only know that when I woke, I was no longer among my brothers. And my sword was gone from my hand.”

“What did you do?”

“I searched for it, and when that failed,” he answered, “I asked my rescuers what had become of it.”

“Did they know?”

“They said they found me with nothing,” he replied.

“Did you believe them?”

“I did. I knew they didn’t have the blade: they had no reason to lie to me,” he admitted, “I panicked, unthinking I struck them down.”

“It’s… really important to you isn’t it?” Kallian replied another strange look crossing her face, something that meant a lot to her was taken from her as well, likely the reason she’d lost control of herself, “your sword that is.”

“That sword was made for my hand alone, I have carried it from the day I was set into the _Beresaad_ , I was to die wielding it for my people,” he nodded, “even if I could cross Ferelden and Tevinter unarmed and alone to bring my report to the _Arishok_ , I would be slain on sight by the _antaam_. They would know me as soulless, a deserter. No soldier would cast aside his blade while he drew breath.”

“You lost it at Lake Calenhad, correct?” Kallian asked tilting her head to the side, “maybe there’s a way we can find it. It might have been picked up by scavengers… We’ll find it, Sten.”

“Perhaps those words are empty,” he replied despite knowing that she’d do her damnedest to ensure it found, “but thank you all the same.”

***

After distributing some medicines she’d already had on hand, she decided to take a rest. Though instead of taking a nap and potentially having to deal with _her_ she instead opted to perch on a roof and blankly stare at Lake Calenhad. She knew Sten had probably surmised that she’d gone through a similar situation, one where she’d lost control of herself. It’s easy to recognize people who’ve gone through similar circumstances like that.

She was afraid of herself, of that raging beast inside of her. She was afraid of losing herself to it again, she was afraid of being consumed by that level of hate… What had her life become? Half a year ago, she was just a regular girl living in the Alienage. Five months ago, she was engaged to be married. Three months ago… her life fell to pieces. Two months ago her body had been brutally beaten and rendered comatose. And a week ago, she’d been the subject of an assassination attempt. 

She missed the days she’d spent living carefree in the Alienage, missed the simplicity of her regular everyday ordinary life. Missed not having to worry about coming up with strategies and tactics in order to keep people alive in battle. Missed being able to sleep without having to fight herself. Missed not being responsible for leading around Humans while worrying about getting smot for her insolence.

She wanted to throw herself down on the ground and kick and scream, throw a temper tantrum the likes of which had never been seen before, but it would be useless, and a waste of time and energy.

The sun would be coming down soon, so she stood from her perch, and sighed as she stretched out her muscles before heading to her post.

“Will you not wear armor?” Ser Perth asked as she put her gloves on.

“Kallian doesn’t wear armor,” Alistair answered for her, “it’s weird but eventually you get used to it.”

“Remember not to bite them,” she said kneeling next to Diana, “treat them like Darkspawn, you don’t want that taste stuck in your mouth.”

“They’re coming!” someone shouted.

Luckily, these zombies were not bite-y at all, so that was pretty neat.

Her preparations were also holding up nicely, they had full control over the flow of battle.

She couldn’t stop a yawn as she looked down at the village proper, things were going according to plan. The undead were swarming the houses they could not reach the top of, and falling to arrows and magic. As she suspected, they probably wouldn’t need her help and where they were, they were being funneled exactly where she wanted them. This was… quite honestly… one of the easiest battles she’d ever fought.

“How are you yawning?!” Elissa asked in shock.

“Well,” she shrugged, “at current, everything is going all according to plan. They can’t reach the archers on the roofs, and the archers are downing them quite nicely… I also haven’t seen a signal telling me to go down there and assist, so there’s that too.”

“What?!” Ser Perth said in shock moving to look down alongside her.

“Why couldn’t you have arrived earlier?!” Elissa asked mournfully.

“I spent three weeks on the brink of death,” she replied, “after that, it took us a week to get to Lothering, and then another week to get here.”

“It’s a miracle she’s still even alive,” Alistair said.

“Yeah, I almost died trying to save Alistair,” she nodded.

“I’ve also certainly tried my hand at taking her life,” Zevran laughed, “but I understand she felled me in one hit.”

“It was indeed one hit,” she nodded, “I hit your vitals pretty hard.”

“Alistair… Where did you find your companions?” Elissa asked.

“Kallian was recruited into the Wardens for some reason, not sure what reason that is yet, Morrigan and her Mother saved us after Ostagar,” Alistair recounted, “Leliana we picked up after a bar fight that ended in Kallian scolding, insulting, and then bossing around Loghain’s men, Sten we rescued from a cage, and Zevran tried to kill us on our way here.”

“And you brought him along?” Elissa asked.

“I believe in second chances,” she replied trying to stifle another yawn, “and I’m sure I’ll tell you eventually.”

Zombies really didn’t have much brains, and they attacked the crates and barricades, but they didn’t do much damage to them before realizing there was an entrance they could funnel into. Things were going so well according to plan she was expecting a lightning strike to the face any second now.

So, now she was wondering what was happening in the castle. Poisons didn’t cause zombies, or rather, they did, but the ones she was used to from her old world were more along the line of diseases. They didn’t need to drag off the corpse of their victim to turn them into the mindless undead, it was just bite once and done. Which meant that there was something going on in the castle, magic? Demons? Spirits?

Ughhh she was tired and didn’t want to think about this.

She wanted a nap.

The sun was finally coming up, they waited a bit, to make sure that the attacks had ceased.

“How were things in the village proper?” she asked.

“They were scared in the beginning,” Leliana replied, “since they were swarming the houses… but once they realized they couldn’t reach them, we were able to take out a great deal of them without any issue.”

“Great success,” she cheered throwing her hands up while still holding her sleeves to her palms.

“How were things up by the windmill?” Leliana asked.

“Was there ever any doubt?” she smirked and puffed out her chest.

“Is… is it over?” Teagan asked opening the doors to the Chantry, “and everyone’s alive?”

“Indeed,” she nodded snapping her fingers into a thumbs up with a grin.

Apparently, they decided to hold a ceremony for them. Honestly, all she wanted was a nap in a nice bed.

“Dawn arrives, and all of us remain! We are victorious! And it is these good folk you see beside me that we have to thank for our lives today, without their heroism, surely we would all have perished,” Teagan declared before turning to her and she stood up a little straighter since now the spotlight was actually on her. Though panic flooded through her, she was still highly uncomfortable with being the center of attention, especially amongst Humans, this was literally going against every single instinct she had, as he bowed to her and offered her a helm, “I bow to you, dear lady. The Maker smiled on us when he sent you here in our darkest hour. Allow me to offer you this: the helm of Ser Ferris the Red, my great-uncle, and Hero of Ferelden. He would approve of passing it to one so worthy.”

Weird.

This was weird.

This was so jarringly weird.

A Human— Not just any Human, a _Bann_ was bowing to her and offering her an heirloom helm.

This is probably at the absolute top of her list of weird shit that has happened to her recently.

What was even _happening_ anymore? Can the world just… make _sense_ again? Please? 

She thought she was getting used to this nonsense, but nope, she wasn’t.

“Thank you, Bann Teagan,” she replied deciding to accept it, since refusing it in this crowd would probably be seen as rude, “I am honored.”

“Take it, then,” Teagan replied as she took it, “and use it in good health.”

She didn’t wear helms.

She didn’t wear armor.

This would do absolutely nothing for her.

Maybe Alistair or Sten could use it.

“Let us bow our head and give honor to those who gave their lives in the defense of Redcliffe,” Mother Hannah said and a different kind of panic swept through her body, nausea assaulted her senses as her eyes swept through the crowd. She remembered her failed wedding, she remembered the last time she was in front of a crowd as a Mother spoke of the Maker. She remembered Nelaros, she remembered Nola, she remembered Shianni. She felt sick. She felt sick. Shefeltsickshefeltsickshefeltsick. No, Vaughan’s dead, she’d brutally massacred him, his friends, and his guards. He’s dead. If anyone else tries anything, she’s learned her lesson: she’ll kill them where they stand, “now they walk with He who is their Maker. Long may they know the peace of His love.”

“So let it be,” she mumbled, fighting back the bile that threatened to spew from her lips.

“With the Maker’s favor, the blow we delivered today is enough for me to enter the castle and seek out your Arl. Be wary and watch for signs of renewed attack. We shall return with news as soon as we are able,” Teagan announced turning the attention away from her, and once the crowd cleared he turned back to her, “now, we’ve no time to waste. Meet me at the mill. We can talk further there.”

“Of course, My Lord,” she nodded with a bow as he left.

“Kallian,” Zevran said, a hand on her arm stopping her as she moved to follow, and a serious expression on his face, “are you feeling alright, my dear?”

“What do you mean?” she beamed with the brightest smile she could muster. 

She knew she wasn’t fooling him. 

She knew she couldn’t fool either him or Leliana.

“Ah, no my mistake,” Zevran grinned at her, “you simply looked stunning in the morning light.”

“Ah-ha-ha-ha,” she laughed monotonously simply grateful that he’d decided to play along, “so, who wants to go into the spooky, scary, haunted castle? Unfortunately, Magical Mistress Morrigan’s participation is mandatory, because my knowledge of magic is basically nonexistent.”

Crap, now that song was stuck in her head.

_Spooky scary skeletons._

“Magical Mis—” Alistair snorted.

“Oh? Does magic not interest you?” Morrigan asked.

“It’s not that,” she shook her head, “I’ve just… never really been exposed to magic… And I didn’t want to end up turning into the so-called green-eyed beast.”

“You’re already a green-eyed beast,” Alistair replied, as she noticed Leliana and Zevran discussing something in hushed voices.

“Oh, you’re right,” she laughed.

“In any case, I’m going,” Alistair declared, “Arl Eamon needs help and I’m not just going to wait here.”

“I figured as much,” she replied.

“I’m going!” Zevran announced brightly, “I’m interested to see what the inside of this castle looks like, and I have been inside my fair share of castles.”

She sort of expected this, Sten never seemed that comfortable around magic, and Zevran had a tendency to stick closer to her than Leliana.

She secretly took a dose of sedatives to help with her nerves.

That might have been a bad idea, she’d already been sleepy.

She gave herself a sharp slap across the face to wake herself up before heading up the hill.

***

Kallian’s complexion during the ceremony had looked… concerning. Not only that, but there was no hiding that extremely brief glance of wide-eyed hysteria, she’d wiped it from her face quickly enough, but both she and Zevran had seen it.

Both she and Zevran knew that Kallian was a master of hiding things and that she would likely say nothing regarding it, while she brushed off their concerns.

So they both discussed it and decided that Zevran would go and keep an eye on her. 

Or rather, he decided that he would go and keep an eye on her. She didn’t really get a chance to argue before he was already volunteering himself.

All she could do now, was pray that nothing bad had happened in Kallian’s past, and nothing bad would happen in the castle.


	18. How the Cat Broke Into Castle Redcliffe

She walked over to Leliana and told her that they’d probably be staying in Redcliffe for a few days, she wanted to make sure the village was secure and asked her to tell Sten and Bodahn for her before continuing her climb up the hill, as she worked to get herself back under control, she was in control of herself. It was her, not her rage, not her fear, not her pain, it was her. 

She was in control of herself.

And she would not lose it, not this time, not ever again. 

“Odd how quiet the castle looks from here, you would think there was nobody inside at all,” Teagan said as they approached before turning to them, “but I shouldn’t delay things further. I had a plan… to enter the castle after the village was secure… There is a secret passage here, in the mill, accessible only to my family.”

“That’s convenient,” she replied, “though I suppose all castles have an escape route.”

“Perhaps I should have gone into the castle earlier, but I could not leave the villa—” Teagan sighed before noticing something approaching, “Maker’s breath!”

“Teagan! Thank the Maker you yet live!” a Noble Woman said running up to them with a guard in tow.

Interesting.

“Isolde! You’re alive! How did you…?” Teagan asked clearly trying to get his thoughts in order, “what has happened?!”

“I do not have much time to explain! I slipped away from the castle as soon as I saw the battle was over, and I must return quickly,” Isolde replied and she felt her eye twitch in disgust, “and I… need you to return with me, Teagan. Alone.”

“You don’t seem very concerned about what’s happened here,” she said with a sharp clipped tone.

Maybe this special treatment and position of power thing _was_ getting to her head, but this pissed her off. The people of Redcliffe were _suffering_ and all she cares about is _herself?_

“What? I… who is this woman, Teagan?” Isolde replied looking at her in suspicion.

“You remember me, Lady Isolde,” Alistair sighed heavily, “don’t you?”

“Alistair? Of all the… why are _you_ here?” Isolde replied and she couldn’t help but click her tongue in annoyance, as her nose wrinkled in disgust. 

This woman didn’t care about the village, about the people who’d died trying to defend their loved ones and their homes, and now she was getting annoyed at Alistair for being here? For helping _protect_ the village? At least he actually DID something to help the villagers. She remembered the haggard faces of those hiding in the Chantry, the haunted expressions of the villagers when they’d first arrived, remembered both Kaitlyn and Bevin, and this woman wasn’t even concerned for them? The actual fuck?

“They are Grey Wardens, Isolde,” Teagan said trying to diffuse the situation, “and the villagers, Teyrna Elissa, and I owe them our lives.”

“Pardon me, I… I would exchange pleasantries,” Isolde said, “but considering the circumstances.”

“Please, Lady Isolde,” Alistair said as she attempted to wipe the look of disgust off of her face, “we had no idea anyone was even alive within the castle. We must have some answers!”

“I know you need more of an explanation, but I… don’t know what is safe to tell,” Isolde replied, “Teagan, there is a terrible evil within the castle. The dead waken and hunt the living. The mage responsible was caught, but it still continues… And I think Connor is going mad… We have survived but he won’t flee the castle. He has seen so much death! You must help him, Teagan! You are his Uncle, you could reason with him. I do not know what else to do.”

She closed her eyes, took a breath, held it, and released.

She was in control, not her anger, not her disgust.

She was.

“What about Arl Eamon?” Alistair asked, “is he still alive?”

“He is, he is being kept alive so far,” Isolde replied, “thank the Maker.”

“Kept alive?” Teagan asked in shock, “kept alive by what?”

“Something the mage unleashed, so far, it allows Eamon, Connor, and myself to live,” Isolde replied, “the others… they were not so fortunate. It’s killed so many, and turned their bodies into walking nightmares! Once it was done with the castle, it struck the village! It wants us to live, but I do not know why. It allowed me to come for you, Teagan, because I begged, because I said Connor needed help.”

Then what was this guard doing still alive?

“Tell me about this mage you mentioned,” she said.

“He is… and infiltrator, I think— one of the castle staff,” Isolde replied, “we discovered he was poisoning my husband. That is why Eamon fell ill. The mage claims an agent of Teyrn Loghain’s hired him. He may be lying, however, I cannot say.”

“It seems your suspicions truly were correct,” Teagan sighed, “I was hoping…”

“I was hoping I was wrong too,” she sighed, “so, Magical Mistress Morrigan, what do you think? Do you think it’s a demon?”

“I think I like being called Magical Mistress Morrigan,” Morrigan replied, “it rolls off the tongue quite well.”

“Oh, Maker’s mercy! Could it truly be a demon?!” Isolde gasped, “I can’t let it hurt my Connor! You must come back with me, Teagan! Please!”

The mage who was poisoning Eamon, summoned a demon to keep the three of them alive?

Sense, it makes none.

“So why must Teagan go alone?” she asked.

“For Connor’s sake, I promised I would return quickly and only with Teagan,” Isolde replied, “Teagan, I know you could order your men to follow me when I return to the castle. I beg you not to, for Connor’s sake!”

“Why do I get the feeling that you aren’t telling us everything?” she asked flatly.

This is bad. 

This position of power and special treatment thing might really be getting to her head.

Or maybe it’s the lack of sleep.

It’s probably the lack of sleep.

Let’s just call it the lack of sleep.

She was definitely being more of a Grumpy McGrumpykins than anything, though it was honestly deserved. She’d spent the entire fucking yesterday redoing their goddamn defenses, planning their strategy, and fighting to save Redcliffe, and this woman didn’t care about the village. Not only that but the world was _still weirding her out_. She should be allowed to have at least one small temper tantrum. 

“I… I beg your pardon!” Isolde replied, “that’s a rather impertinent accusation!”

“I think it’s a fair question,” she replied, “considering you’re asking Bann Teagan to throw himself in harm's way to return to the castle with you.”

“An evil I cannot fathom holds my son and husband hostage! I came for help! What more do you want from me?!” Isolde replied, “Teagan! I do not have much time! What if it thinks I am betraying it!? It could kill Connor! Please come back with me… must I beg?!”

“Well, in the end, it’s your decision,” she said throwing her hands up in exasperation.

“The King is dead, and we need my brother now more than ever,” Teagan replied, “I will return to the castle with you, Isolde.”

“Oh, thank the Maker!” Isolde said in relief, “bless you, Teagan! Bless you!”

“It seems you have little choice,” she sighed.

“Isolde, can you excuse us for a moment?” Teagan asked, “there is something I want to make sure of before I return to the castle with you.”

“Please do not take too long!” Isolde replied before she and her guard left, “I will be by the bridge.”

“I have no illusions of dealing with this evil alone. You, on the other hand, have proven quite formidable,” Teagan said moving her an extra bit of distance away from Isolde and handing her a ring, “here’s what I propose: I go in with Isolde and you enter the castle using the secret passage. My signet ring unlocks the door in the mill… Perhaps I will… distract whatever evil is inside and increase your chances of getting in unnoticed. What do you say?”

“Well, it’s as good a plan as any, I suppose,” she sighed inspecting the ring noticing Elissa approaching in her peripheral vision, “I doubt I can break in there if there’s a demon or whatever afoot.”

“Ser Perth and his men can watch for danger at the castle entrance,” Teagan replied, “if you can open the gates from within, they can move in and help you.”

“I’ll wait by the gates as well,” Elissa said speaking up, “sorry, I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help.”

“It’s okay,” she replied shaking her head, “you’re fine.”

“I don’t think there’s anyone else who can help you, then,” Teagan replied, “whatever you do, Eamon is the priority here, if you have to, just get him out of there. Isolde, me, and anyone else… we’re expendable.”

“I don’t believe that,” she replied.

“You’re a good woman, the Maker smiled on me indeed when He sent you to Redcliffe, but I can delay no longer,” Teagan said before leaving to join Isolde, “allow me to bid you farewell… and good luck.”

She sighed heavily in exasperation. If the Maker really sent them, he was a sadistic son of a bitch, causing the Blight and allowing this madness to even begin. Not only that but a good woman? Hah, he didn’t even know the half of it.

She wasn’t a good woman.

She was a monster of her own making, she’d been one even before Vaughan, she knew that. She had turned herself into one so that she could hunt those who preyed on others, she had absolutely no illusions on that, but at least that monster was self-contained, at least that monster was within her control. But that raging hate-filled beast? That was a monster on an entirely different level, one she had not even known herself capable of.

“Sometimes,” she grumbled, “I really hate nobles.”

“I… hate to admit but she was pissing me off as well,” Elissa nodded.

“I can’t believe her!” she frowned, “here we were, here Alistair was, putting his life on the line to defend the village and she fucking _scoffs_ at his presence?!”

“Exactly!” Elissa frowned, “we’ve been defending the village, night after night, and she doesn’t even _care_!”

“What a revolting attitude,” she sighed in frustration, “in any case we should probably head over.”

They entered the mill, and she saw the trap door barely hidden beneath some hay and frowned.

Not a well hidden door.

She took her gloves off before she brushed some of the hay off as she looked for the place she was supposed to put the signet in and pressed it into the slot before pulling her gloves back on. She didn’t want the hay sticking her through them.

“Hey, Kallian,” Alistair said, “you’re a woman, right?”

“…Yeah, sure, I guess,” she replied, “I guess I’m something along those lines, yeah, why?”

“Can you give me advice?” Alistair asked.

“That depends on what you want advice on,” she replied.

“If I think a woman is special—” Alistair began and she held up a hand stopping him.

“Are you telling me… are you telling me you fell in love with Elissa!?” she slapped her hand over her mouth, “when did— No _way_ you fell in love with her at first sight, didn’t you!? And then right after that you decided to introduce yourself as having your defining characteristic being _covered in mud?!_ ”

“Just… just let it out,” Alistair groaned and she did.

“You— BWAHAHAHA! You— ” she laughed hysterically falling to her knees and clutching at her sides, “I can’t— I can’t breathe! I’m dying! It hurts! My sides! D’AHAHAHAHA HEEHEEEHEE!”

“It isn’t _that_ funny!” Alistair glared, “and what is with that laugh?!”

“But you—!!!” she laughed, “oh, I am _never_ letting you live this down!”

“You know what?” Alistair frowned, “forget I said anything.”

“That’s impossible!” she wheezed, “absolutely impossible!”

“I guess we’re in the same boat now, huh?” Alistair sighed turning to Zevran.

“It would appear so,” Zevran replied dryly as she held her breath trying to calm herself down.

“One would think you would have learned after seeing what happened to Zevran,” Morrigan said, “but ‘twould appear that that was not so.”

“Don’t worry,” she sighed finally getting herself under control, “I have my embarrassing moments too.”

“Like what?” Alistair asked.

“I once got so worked up and angry that I closed a door on my own face because I was dead-set on angrily storming off,” she recounted wiping a tear from her eye, “argument ended immediately after that because my cousin and I had dissolved into a laughing mess.”

“I can’t even imagine you getting angry,” Alistair admitted, “and especially not angry enough to storm off.”

“It takes a lot to get me angry, but she had a habit of trying to deliberately piss me off,” she shrugged, “neither of us remembered what we were arguing about, all we could both remember was how I stupidly closed the door on my own face… I’ve also already told you how I’ve gotten stuck in crates and barrels.“

As they began moving through the tunnel again she tried to put that thought from her mind. They were going into potentially dangerous territory, and she didn’t need to have a laughing fit to give away their position.

“Escape tunnels make such very handy entrance tunnels,” Zevran said excitedly, “don’t you agree?”

“They really do,” she nodded, “though, the only reason we were able to get into this one was because of the signet ring.”

“A tunnel that goes under the entire lake?” Morrigan said baffled, “who would build such a thing?”

“Rich people,” she replied, “who need a stealthy quick getaway.”

“You know,” Alistair said as if almost proud of it, “I locked myself in a cage once when I was a child… For an entire day. Ahh, good times.”

She audibly clapped a hand over her mouth, faced a wall free of cobwebs and leaned on it, as she began desperately trying to stifle her laughter as much as possible, her body practically spasming from the effort of trying to hold her laughter back. Her cheeks and sides were aching from the amount of laughing she’d really wanted to unleash.

She was _so_ telling Elissa this later.

“I’m going to regret saying that,” Alistair sighed, “aren’t I?”

“Of fucking course you are, I can’t believe you would just admit it like that,” she wheezed still trying to keep herself from laughing she took a deep breath, held it, and let it out, “I’m definitely going to remember and laugh at this for the rest of my life.”

“Go figure out where Antiva is,” Alistair groaned.

***

She truly lamented the fact that Kallian had been made a Grey Warden, she really wished she could have hired her. The medicines she’d distributed and her knowledge of healing were nothing to turn your nose up at. She was indeed incredibly well-educated with a shockingly wide-range of skills, and according to Alistair, her cooking skills were top-notch.

Don’t get her wrong, she knew the woman was clearly skilled enough, that alone was plain to see, considering how well their defense went last night, it was supposed to be the worst yet, but it ended up feeling like the easiest night they’d defended against. Not only had she given them hope, but her strategical and tactical know-how clearly saw them through the night. Not just anyone could see through the plans of a veteran general like Loghain like that, and by the sounds of it, not only did she see through him, she immediately counteracted him. It wasn’t often that you could find someone who could both serve and advise, and both of her quick analytical skills, as well as her observational prowess, would have made her a formidable ally for any employer. 

Well, as long as you didn’t consider something stupid like trying to tame her, but she could tell, that the woman was loyal, especially considering how angry she got on Alistair’s behalf… She could have seen herself having fun, chatting with her…

But what had happened to her marriage? She really wanted to know, but she also really didn’t want to push it. Especially not around everyone else, and especially considering she had apparently told no one how she was recruited in the first place. It was clearly a sore topic, one she’d avoided at all costs.

***

Kallian was picking fights with nobles, and being thrown into laughing fits, which made him wonder if he and Leliana truly had seen wrong. The others hadn’t noticed anything wrong. Still, he should observe her carefully. The brief glimpse of panic, hysteria, and madness came back to the forefront of his mind. It made him remember a conversation he’d had with her before.

That malicious scowl and unnatural tilt of her head as she hissed that some people were ‘shitty wastes of space who didn’t deserve to even so much as breathe’.

Something had happened to her, but he doubted she would say anything on the matter, just as she refused to say anything specific about her life before becoming a Warden.

“So… Let me ask you something,” Alistair began, “what are your intentions with her?”

“You speak of her as if she is not present,” he sighed gesturing to Kallian, “she is just right over there, you know.”

“It’s true, I am,” Kallian sighed raising her arm as she began wildly waving her sleeve around, an action he’d always found oddly endearing. 

Her sleeves were just as much a part of her as any body part, she’d assault people with them when annoyed, wave them around wildly when trying to get someone's attention. They were long, and always covered at least half of her hands, yet she was still rather expressive in her usage of them. She even used them to help her hold hot things, she was astonishingly versatile in their use.

Her body was still a mystery to absolutely everyone with the exception of Morrigan.

“Don’t dodge the question,” Alistair frowned, “I’m serious.”

“Is this brotherly concern I detect? Or something else?” he asked, now even Alistair was questioning his motives, “perhaps you are concerned for me, yes?”

“I am just asking what your intentions are,” Alistair replied, “you did try to kill us all, remember?”

“And now I owe her a blood debt, as she has spared my life,” he smirked, “it has brought us… closer together.”

“Is that a smirk?” Alistair frowned continuing to ignore Kallian, “are you smirking at me?”

“I assure you, Ser, that I am not smirking,” he grinned and Kallian audibly rolled her eyes, “no smirking here, no.”

***

A dungeon.

They were in a dungeon. 

Somewhere where she was supposed to have been left to rot, left to die for her crimes. Somewhere where she wished she could be, alone, in solitude awaiting her own death without worrying about keeping people alive, without worrying about planning, strategy, and tactics. She’s a villain, not a hero. At least Zevran’s was a job. Hers? There were no justifications, no excuses, nothing that she could profess to explain herself. She should have been sacrificed for the greater good of her community.

“Stay away from me!” a voice cried out and she ran it was day time, but the undead were assaulting a closed cell. Her dagger and borrowed sword ended them, “h—hello? Who’s there? Is there anyone alive out there?”

“Hello,” she waved.

“Wait… you don’t look like the Arlessa’s guards,” the Man said, “did she send a servant for me?”

“Nope,” she waved her sleeve around, “sorry, I know how I’m dressed, but I’m not a servant.”

“Then are you from outside the castle?” the Man asked and she nodded.

“I take it you’re the mage Lady Isolde mentioned?” she asked.

“You’ve spoken to her?” the Man replied, “then you know what I did.”

“She said you poisoned the Arl,” she replied.

“My name is Jowan, and I’m not proud of my deed… Poisoning Arl Eamon was what I was hired to do,” Jowan replied, “Lady Isolde had no idea when she took me in to tutor her son, of course.”

“So, what’s with all the walking corpses?” she asked.

“I… I know it looks suspicious, but I’m not responsible for the creatures and the killings in the castle,” Jowan explained, “I was already imprisoned when all that began. At first, Lady Isolde came here with her men demanding that I reverse what I’d done. I thought she meant my poisoning of the Arl. That’s the first I heard about the walking corpses. She thought I’d summoned a demon to torment her family and destroy Redcliffe. She… had me tortured. There was nothing I could do or say that would appease her. So they… left me to rot.”

“Whoaaaaaa…” she said in a daze.

“What? What’s wrong?” Alistair asked.

“I’m just… trying to figure out what’s wrong with her, I suppose if her family's being threatened she wouldn’t be thinking straight but… logically speaking: that’s pretty asinine,” she closed her eyes in thought, “well, at least some of the pieces are falling into place… Why did the Arlessa hire you to tutor her son?”

“Lady Isolde was looking for a mage to tutor Connor, secretly,” Jowan admitted and she clicked her tongue in annoyance, “Teyrn Loghain found out and he… sent me. I was to use the opportunity to poison the Arl. I was told that Arl Eamon was a threat to Ferelden, that if I dealt with him Loghain would settle matters with the Circle.”

“The Circle? The Circle’s involved?” she furrowed her brows and bit the nail of her thumb in thought, the Tavern Keeper in Lothering had mentioned something weird was going down in the Circle, she should probably file this bit of information away for when she’s in control of more of her intellectual faculties, “why would he need to settle matters with the Circle for you?”

“It’s because… well… you see, I’m a maleficar: a blood mage,” Jowan answered.

“You? A blood mage? Truly?” Morrigan said in shock, “I would have never guessed.”

“A blood mage!” Alistair frowned, “well _that_ isn’t good.”

“I dabbled in the forbidden arts, and they condemned me to death for it. I thought Loghain was giving me a chance to… redeem myself,” Jowan began whining, “but he’s abandoned me here, hasn’t he? Everything’s fallen apart, and I’m responsible! I have to make it right somehow, I have to!”

“Then Teyrn Loghain hired you after all,” she sighed.

“Yes, when the Templars caught me, they brought me to Denerim to await execution, eventually, someone came to see me, alone. It was the Teyrn. I’d seen paintings of him so I knew,” Jowan nodded, “I thought he’d have me executed right there, but he said I could make up for my crime. He said I would be helping the country.”

All she could feel was pity. She pitied Loghain. She didn’t hate him, she pitied him. She pitied the him whose inner demons plagued him and drove him to destroy the one thing he loved most: Ferelden.

But more than that, she _understood_ him, she understood that his past would never let him sleep. She wouldn’t allow herself to tread that same path, she’ll catch and end herself before she does, but she pitied the him that could not do that.

“And he said that Arl Eamon was a threat to Ferelden,” she stated with another sigh.

“Yes, he said that Arl Eamon was dangerous to the nation,” Jowan nodded, “why wouldn’t I believe Teyrn Loghain?”

“In that situation? I don’t blame you,” she said.

“Are you saying that _you_ would have poisoned Arl Eamon if Loghain had asked?” Alistair balked.

“No, because I ask too many questions. I demand to know _exactly_ what a threat is and why it’s a threat. I will _never_ be a ‘yes man’ who only knows how to blindly follow orders,” she said flatly, “however, that does not mean I do not understand his mentality. Someone in a position of power abused the trust society had placed in him, placed in him to know what was best for the country, he simply took the hand offered. End of story.”

“But I just don’t understand,” Alistair sighed in frustration, “why would Lady Isolde need a mage to Connor?”

“Connor had started to show… signs,” Jowan answered and rage flooded through her veins, “Lady Isolde was terrified the Circle of Magi would take him away for training.”

“Connor?!” Alistair gasped, “a mage? I can’t believe it!”

“She sought an apostate, a mage outside the Circle, to teach her son in secret so he could learn to hide his talent,” Jowan said and she felt her nose wrinkle in disgust and her tongue angrily click in her mouth, “her husband had no idea.”

Control.

She was in control.

It was her mind, her body, her soul, and she was in control.

She will become a monster, become the monster she needed to be, but she will be the one in control.

She will not lose herself to _her_.

“And Arl Eamon had no idea?” Alistair asked.

“No, she was adamant that he never find out,” Jowan answered, “she said he’d do the right thing, even if it meant losing their son. And that infuriated her.”

Every new piece of information she learned of Isolde disgusted her. Arl Eamon would send him to the Circle because he actually fucking _cares_ about his son.

“Then ‘twould seem that this woman’s son is responsible for this,” Morrigan said.

“I thought that, too. Connor has little knowledge of magic, but he may have done something to tear open the Veil,” Jowan agreed, “with the Veil to the Fade torn, spirits and demons could infiltrate the castle. Powerful ones could kill and create those walking corpses.”

“I see,” she sighed heavily in frustration, “well… shit.”

“I never meant for it to end like this, I swear,” Jowan said, “let me help you fix this.”

This… this could have been her. This could have been her were it not for Duncan, but quite honestly? She’d be rather content wallowing in the cell she’d been left to rot in.

“I say this boy could still be of use to us. But if not, then let him go,” Morrigan said, “why keep him prisoner here?”

“Hey, hey! Let’s not forget he’s a blood mage!” Alistair practically shouted, “you can’t just… set a blood mage free!”

“Better to slay him? Better to punish him for his choices?” Morrigan shot back, “is this Alistair who speaks or the Templar?”

“I’d say it’s common sense,” Alistair replied flatly, “we don’t even know the whole story yet.”

“Honestly, you two are so interesting… Morrigan is always willing to allow people to redeem themselves and live freely,” she closed her eyes thoughtfully, “and Alistair wants to stick with what he’s been taught is right, and wants to err on the side of caution. I feel like a Mother.”

“Give me a chance, please!” Jowan begged.

She was allowed to walk free, and she was a bigger and more fearsome monster than him, she was even being allowed to pretend she was something she wasn’t. No matter what this man had done, her crimes likely made his look minuscule in comparison. One does not need to be a mage, does not need to be a maleficar to be completely and utterly dangerous and destructive.

“How will you make things right?” she asked, “there’s no saving the boy, I hope you know this.”

“I… there must be something I can do,” Jowan replied, “there has to be!”

“Well, Mother also believes in giving people second chances, so I’m sorry Alistair, but Mother will be siding with Morrigan on this one,” she said, “plus, he’s already been _heaps_ more helpful, informative, and actually _caring_ than Isolde.”

“You are not our Mother,” Alistair and Morrigan said in unison before glaring at each other.

If she added the full ages of both lifetimes together, she would _definitely_ be old enough to be both of their Mothers.

“I certainly feel like it at times,” she replied wryly, “and what do you intend to do afterward?”

“Afterwards?” Jowan asked, “I assume I’ll be arrested, or executed, or… whatever people like me get. I’m tired of running from the Circle, I need to account for what I’ve done.”

She had been drafted into the Wardens and forced into a world that made absolutely _zero_ sense, where she was routinely weirded out by _everything_ , and she was far more dangerous than he was. The world made no sense, so let’s just meh it. She could see herself in him, a possible future of hers. One tired of dealing with the backlash from her actions, one who just wanted it all to end.

Actually, that’s what she was now.

“Alright,” she said, “as a reward for how helpful and informative you’ve been, and also for actually caring about the other people who’ve been caught up in this mess.”

“What?!” Alistair all but shouted.

“Alistair, Isolde is currently on my personal shit list, for many reasons,” she replied, “have you not noticed? She doesn’t _care_. Kaitlyn, Bevin, Murdock, Ser Perth, Elissa, Teagan, Tomas, Owen, Berwick, Mother Hannah, and all of the other villagers? They’ve suffered from this, and Isolde doesn’t even fucking _care_ about them. This man does, he’s learned his lesson, he knows better now. You can’t expect to gain life experiences without messing up somewhere.”

“I’m not leaving,” Jowan said adamantly as she picked the lock to his cell, “I made a mistake and I’m going to find some way to fix it.”

“Alright, well then, do your best,” she replied, “we’ve got a castle to retake.”

They ascended out of the dungeon and she was blasted with a wave of nausea, she was back in that moment: fighting through an Arl’s estate in order to rescue people. She saw the faces of the guards she’d already massacred in the undead they fought against. A string of apologies resounded through her mind on repeat as the images flashed through her mind.

A ceremony in front of a group of people with a Mother speaking of the Maker.

A dungeon.

An Arl’s Estate.

Undead guards.

Rescuing someone.

She took a deep breath, held it, and released.

Breathe, she needed to breathe.

“Alistair, you take the lead,” she said, “you know this place better than I do.”

“Alright,” Alistair nodded firmly.

She could lose control of her stomach later.

***

After they’d left the dungeons, Kallian’s complexion worsened, her eyes unfocused as they continued to fight through the undead. Something had happened to her, something related to an Arl’s estate, he was sure of that now, but he doubted she’d say anything.

She never said anything regarding her recruitment, but perhaps they held more similarities than he’d originally thought.

She’d previously mentioned that she had no intentions to join a military organization like the Grey Wardens, she’d had no desire to leave Denerim, she doesn’t like unnecessary violence and bloodshed, she thought that there were people who were wastes of space who didn’t deserve to breathe…

His accepting the contract to kill the remaining Grey Wardens was his death wish…

…Was becoming a Grey Warden hers?

He didn’t understand, she was strong and resilient, she gave people hope and peace of mind. She’d lived through tragedy after tragedy after tragedy and still stood tall. He remembered what was said: Kallian had thrown Alistair behind her to save him during the Battle of Ostagar and almost died doing so. She’d apparently justified it by saying that he had been a Grey Warden for far longer than she, and therefore making it a better option for him to have survived since he knew more about being one than she did. But was it truly only that? What could have possibly happened to her to make her want to throw her life away?

Or perhaps she was simply tired, and he was reading into it too much, but he had a feeling he wasn’t. 

He had a feeling that she no longer wished to live, he knew because he had been the same.


	19. How the Cat Felt Sick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changed the Tao bits in 14 and 16
> 
> 8/20: Did it again in Ch 14. Because that feeling when you have like three copies of the _Tao Te Ching_ and you don't know which one you want to use so you finally decide to just mash it all together, like 'I like the way they translated this part here instead of the way the other one translated it'.
> 
> Also been going back and doing some grammar edits, but those are nothin' big.

She heard barking and they were attacked by Mabari, and the waves of her nausea rocked her body anew, but this wasn’t the time to feel sick. This wasn’t the time to empty her stomach. She can do all of that when she’s alone, when no one else is around.

“Ahh! Please don’t hurt me!” a Woman cried as she opened a door and in her mind, she saw Nola.

_“Let go of me! Please! Stop!”_

_“Stay away from us!”_

Breathe.

She needed.

To.

Breathe.

“Calm down,” she said softly, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I… I’m sorry, I’m so frightened! These monsters are everywhere!” the Woman replied and her nausea took an all-time high, “my… my name’s Valena, the Arlessa’s maid. Is she… alright? What happened to everyone?”

“Valena?” she asked, “the Smith’s daughter?”

“You know my Father?” Valena said in relief, “I want to go back to the village! Is there a way out of here?”

“There’s a tunnel to the windmill through the dungeons,” she answered, “do you think you can make it on your own?”

“I’ll find my way,” Valena said with resolve, “I can run fast and I know the castle. Thank you!”

“Be careful,” she called out after her.

She continued to follow Alistair through the castle and he led them to the courtyard. She let the fresh air fill her lungs as she opened the gate for Elissa, Ser Perth and the other knights to enter.

“You have opened the gates, that is good,” Ser Perth nodded, “my men and I are eager to see our Arl again.”

“What has been going on inside of the castle?” Elissa asked.

“Lots of dead people going grawr. No sign yet of Isolde, Connor, Teagan, or Eamon,” she reported and decided to skip over Jowan, “but we found the Blacksmith’s daughter and sent her back to Redcliffe.”

“Shall we enter the main hall together, then?” Ser Perth asked, “it must be held if we are to regain control of the castle.”

“Let’s go to the hall,” Alistair nodded.

“Excellent,” Ser Perth replied, “let us go now, then, and see what awaits us there.”

“Be on your guard,” she sighed, “and be prepared for… anything, really.”

“All we can do is go forward,” Elissa nodded.

She did her best to steel herself as they entered the main hall of the castle. She knew what she had to do, there was no way she could allow the child to live. No matter what, he needed to die. She can scream, and cry, and vomit all she wanted later, but for now, for now, there were things that must be done. 

The scene that greeted them as they entered was… depressing, to say the least. Teagan was being forced to act as a jester as Isolde watched, with who she presumed was Connor clapping happily.

“So these are our visitors?” Connor asked, “the ones you told me about, Mother?”

“Y— yes, Connor,” Isolde replied.

“And this is the one who defeated my soldiers?” Connor asked, “the ones I sent to reclaim my village?”

“Yes,” Isolde replied.

“And now it’s staring at me!” Connor replied, “what is it, Mother? I can’t see it well enough.”

“Well… I guess that’s the second time I’ve been called ‘it’,” she mumbled quietly, the last time she was called an ‘it’ it was also by nobles.

“This is an Elf, Connor. You… you’ve seen Elves, before,” Isolde replied, “we have them here in the castle.”

She hated that they were talking about Elves as if they weren’t people, as if they were pets one simply owns.

“Oh, I remember! I had their ears cut off and fed to the dogs!” Connor replied, “the dogs chewed for hours! Shall I send it to the kennels, Mother?”

“C— Connor, I beg you,” Isolde replied, “don’t hurt anyone!”

“M— Mother? What… what’s happening?” Connor asked seeming to regain parts of himself, “where am I?”

“Oh, thank the Maker! Connor!” Isolde said falling to her knees, “Connor, can you hear me?”

“Get away from me, fool woman!” Connor shouted, “you are beginning to bore me.”

“Maker’s breath!” Ser Perth gasped, “what has happened here?!”

“Grey Warden… please don’t hurt my son!” Isolde begged, “he’s not responsible for what he does!”

“He’s the evil force you were talking about,” she frowned.

“No, don’t say that!” Isolde replied.

“So the boy has become an abomination and sundered the Veil?” Morrigan said.

“Connor didn’t mean to do this! It was that mage, the one who poisoned Eamon— he started all this!” Isolde replied, “he summoned this demon! Connor was just trying to help his Father!”

“And made a deal with the demon to do so?” Morrigan sighed, “foolish child.”

“It was a fair deal!” Connor shouted, “Father is alive, just as I wanted. Now it’s my turn to sit on the throne and send out armies to conquer the world! Nobody tells me what to do anymore!”

“Nooobody tells him what to do!” Teagan said in a voice that did not sound like his, “nobody! Ha-ha-ha-ha!”

“Quiet, Uncle, I warned you what would happen if you kept shouting, didn’t I? Yes, I did,” Connor flowered at Teagan before turning back to them, “but let’s keep things civil. This woman will have the audience she seeks. Tell us, woman… what have you come here for?”

“To be your end,” she replied smoothly hands moving to the borrowed sword and her dagger as she turned herself to ice.

“I’m not finished playing! You can’t make me stop!” Connor shouted angrily, “I think it’s trying to spoil my fun, Mother!”

“I… I don’t think…” Isolde replied as she began calculating.

“Of course you don’t. Ever since you sent the knights away, you do nothing but deprive me of my fun, frankly, it’s getting dull,” Connor glared as she counted five guards plus Teagan, “I crave excitement! And action! This woman spoiled my sport by saving that stupid village, and now she’ll repay me!”

Before she could move, the child ran away Isolde ran to cower in a corner and now she was stuck facing the guards. Teagan aside, knocking out the guards would be impossible. Their armor would protect them from any of her strikes, Teagan wasn’t wearing a helm, she still didn’t want to touch his head, but his neck was exposed and she could deliver a chop to his carotid artery which should knock him out nicely.

“You seem to be quite skilled in knocking people out,” Zevran noted.

“She really is,” Alistair nodded.

“Teagan! Teagan, are you alright?!” Isolde shouted running to his side to help him up.

“I am… better now, I think,” Teagan replied, “my mind is my own again.”

“Is your neck okay?” she asked.

“It’s sore, but I’ll live,” Teagan replied.

“Blessed Andraste! I would have never forgiven myself had you died, not after I brought you here, what a fool I am!” Isolde replied, “please! Connor’s not responsible for this! There must be some way we can save him!”

“There isn’t,” she replied.

“I am sorry, My Lady, but Connor has become an abomination,” Jowan said, “he’s no longer your son.”

“You!” Isolde shouted, “you did this to Connor!”

“I didn’t! I didn’t summon any demon, I told you!” Jowan replied, “please if you’ll let me help…”

“Help!? You betrayed me!” Isolde shouted hysterically, “I brought you here to help my son and in return, you poisoned my husband!”

“Speaking of poisons,” she cut in, “do you know which poisoned you used?”

“No, I’m afraid not,” Jowan replied.

“Do you have any left?” she asked.

“No,” Jowan shook his head.

“Wonderful,” she groaned as she covered her face with her hand. Then again, she had no real confidence that any medicine or antidote she mixed up would actually help, especially considering that there was now magic in play.

“This is the mage you spoke of?” Teagan asked, “didn’t you say he was in the dungeon?”

“He was, I assumed the creatures had killed him by now,” Isolde glowered, “he must have been set free.”

“That’s right,” she frowned, “and I stand by my decision.”

“I know what you must think of me, My Lady,” Jowan said, “I took advantage of your fear. I am sorry… I… I never knew it would come to this.”

“Well, I shan’t turn away his help, not yet,” Teagan said, “and if Connor is truly an abomination…”

“He’s not always the demon you saw, Connor is still inside him, and sometimes he breaks through,” Isolde replied, “please I just want to protect him!”

“I don’t think you _can_ protect him at this point,” Elissa remarked.

“Isn’t that what started this? You hired the mage to teach Connor in secret,” Teagan pointed out, “to protect him.”

“If they discovered Connor had magic, then they’d take him away!” Isolde argued, “I thought if he learned just enough to hide it, then…”

“Where is he?” she asked coldly.

“I think he ran upstairs,” Teagan replied, “to the family quarters.”

“Violence… scares him. I know that sounds strange,” Isolde replied, “he may have run up to his room, or…”

“An ambush, huh,” she sighed.

“I don’t know, the fighting may have scared Connor into… coming out again,” Isolde replied, “and so he ran.”

“So you’re saying he may be vulnerable?” Teagan asked.

“I… perhaps,” Isolde asked, “is there no other way?”

“There isn’t,” she repeated, “where is Arl Eamon?”

“Upstairs, in his room,” Isolde replied, “I think the demon has been keeping him alive.”

“So if we destroy the demon, then…?” Teagan trailed off.

“Then my husband may perish,” Isolde replied, “yes.”

“We don’t have many options,” she said.

“I wouldn’t normally suggest slaying a child, but… he’s an abomination,” Alistair spoke up, “I’m not sure there’s any choice.”

“There are always choices,” she sighed, “however, all other choices are bad ones.”

“There is… another option, though I… loathe offering it,” Jowan said softly, “a mage could confront the demon in the Fade, without hurting Connor himself.”

“What do you mean?” Teagan asked, “is the demon not within Connor?”

“Not physically,” Jowan shook his head, “the demon approached Connor in the Fade while he dreamt, and controls him from there. We can use the connection between them to find the demon.”

“You can enter the Fade, then?” Isolde asked, “and kill the demon without hurting my boy?”

“No, but I can enable another mage to do so,” Jowan replied, “it normally requires lyrium and several mages, but I have… blood magic.”

“Blood magic?” Alistair replied, “no, that’s not an option.”

“If there’s a way, I must know it,” Isolde begged, “please! Tell us what you mean, Jowan.”

“Lyrium provides the power for the ritual, but I can take that power from someone’s life energy,” Jowan explained, “this ritual requires a lot of it, however. All of it, in fact.”

“So… someone must die?” Teagan asked, “someone must be sacrificed?”

“Yes, and we send another mage into the Fade,” Jowan replied, “I can’t enter because I’m doing the ritual… Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s… not much of an option…”

“It’s not,” she replied coldly.

“I… I understand,” Jowan replied, “I just…”

“I disagree,” Isolde replied, “I think we should do it. Let it be my blood. I will be the sacrifice.”

“What? Isolde, are you mad?!” Teagan asked, “Eamon would never allow this!”

“Either someone kills my son to destroy that thing inside him or I give my life so my son can live,” Isolde replied, “to me, the answer is clear.”

“The answer is clear to me too,” she said.

“Connor is blameless in this,” Isolde replied, “he should not have to pay the price.”

“He won’t be, you will,” she stated, “we’re fighting the demon here.”

“Please don’t!” Isolde begged, “it isn—”

She slapped her hard enough across the face to knock her off her feet and glared down at her with disgust as she shook the feeling back into her hand.

“It isn’t his fault,” she agreed, “but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have to die.”

“You… you’re a woman!” Isolde shouted back at her, “what if this was your son?! Tell me you wouldn’t move mountains to save him!”

“If he were my son? If he were my son we wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place!” she shouted angrily, “if it were _my_ child, _I_ would have sent them to the Circle and visited them any chance I got, hell, I’d move in right next door so that I could be an overbearing Mother who practically all-but adopted the entire fucking Circle because at least then I know that they would be safe. That they would be getting an education far better than _any_ I could _ever_ hope to provide. I know my limits, I know I have zero magical abilities and know-how, that even if I _tried_ to keep them out of the Circle, all I’ll end up doing is hurting them because I can’t give them what they _need_. 

“Do you even know what your _selfishness_ has cost _him?_ Cost the _village?_ Oh, right, you don’t know, because you don’t _care!_ You don’t care that the villagers had to spend night after night defending against an assault that drove them further and further away from hope. You don’t even actually _care_ about your own _son!_ You can save his life by sacrificing your own, sure, but will that ever _truly_ save him? Will it? Will it save his _conscience?_ His heart? His soul? _He’s_ going to have to be the one who lives and suffers from your own fucking _selfishness_. But you don’t even actually fucking _care_. All you care about is _yourself_ and about _you_ feeling good about _your_ own parenting abilities. You _narcissist_. This is _your_ fault, and no matter what, _he’ll_ be the one to pay the price for it. I am _not_ perpetuating this circle, I am _not_ going to cause him more pain than he’s already going to be suffering under. 

“If you want to save him, you can do it without our help, but you’d better look at every single one of those villagers, every single one of their haunted expressions and know that _you_ were the one who caused this. The _least_ you could do at this point is ease the burden on his heart. _If you even truly care_.”

Silence.

She was already a monster, she’d already lost pieces of herself.

What was one more?

“…Then this is what must be done,” Teagan said finally.

“Noo!! No!” Isolde screamed, “I won’t let you do this!”

“Then I’m leaving,” she replied and turned her back to them to leave, she’s never been afraid to walk away from things she didn’t believe in, from things she didn’t agree with. 

She knew that if she took the offer and allowed Isolde to sacrifice herself for Connor’s sake, she’d wonder if she did the right thing, she’d wonder if Connor would truly be happy having caused the death of not only the villagers but also his Mother. She knew he wouldn’t be, she knew he would never be, this isn’t the kind of burden anyone wants on them. 

She knew because she was the same, all she wanted was an end and she was far older than the child. No matter what she did, no matter how many people she helped, it would never be enough to counterbalance her guilt, her pain, her agony. She knew he would wonder why he was able to live when his Mother and all of the other villagers died because of him. She knew because she still hated that she was out here experiencing the world when those she loved and cared for were probably going through hell for her actions because she’d caused those she loved most pain on an unimaginable scale.

“Please wait!” Teagan stopped her, “go and do this quickly, we must save Eamon and restore the castle. I will… try to make her understand.”

“We’ll do what we can,” Elissa nodded, “so… please…”

“Understood,” she replied.

She moved forward, not caring if the others followed her or not, she knew what she had to do. This was a job no one else wanted to do, so it might as well be her to do it. That’s how she’s always done things: she had the skills to do it, so it might as well be her. There was no salvation for people like them, there was no peace, there was no redemption. There was only agony, suffering, pain, self-hatred, and a desire for an end. Nobody else could possibly ever hope to understand. No one. No one would understand that there were no words or actions that would ever ease the burden on their hearts and souls, there was no hope for them. And she didn’t want anyone else to understand.

Even in death there would be no redemption nor any peace, she knew this.

But at least she won’t be able to harm anyone else once she’s dead.

So she will end him for mercy’s sake alone, and so she closed off her heart and steeled her resolve.

Suits of armor came to life and a room opened for more undead to stream out of, she found herself being backed into a room, a study, by the looks of it, as she parried, dodged, and countered. She noticed an amulet on the desk, one of Andraste’s holy symbol, that had clearly seen better days. Someone had carefully glued it back together, she swiped it before leaving to continue upstairs. The others still following her.

She saw him, just standing there, and saw the room the Arl was in, she could see him laying on the bed from here. She tightened her grip on her weapons.

Should she just…?

“Go away,” Connor said spotting them, “she won’t like you being here. She’ll just try to hurt you.”

“I know,” she replied softly, “but I’m not afraid of being hurt.”

“I know, I think the scary lady is afraid of you. She says you’ll ruin everything, I can’t hear her now, but she’s never very far,” Connor replied, “I tried to stop her but I can’t. She said she’d help Father. I didn’t think she’d hurt everyone, honestly, I didn’t.”

“I understand,” she nodded, “and I need to help your Father.”

“She said that was why you were here. I want to help Father, too,” Connor explained, “she knew I did, that’s why she came to me.”

“Do you know what she is?” she asked.

“She’s a bad person,” Connor answered, “I heard her in my dreams, and then she was everywhere.”

“She’s a demon,” she stated simply.

“Sometimes she’s nice. She says she just wants to help me,” Connor replied, “but then she gets very mean. Demons are liars.”

“Mm…” she tightened her grip on her weapons again, “I’m afraid this has to end now.”

“Is that why you’re here? Are you going to kill me?” Connor asked, “she said you would. What’s going to happen to me? When I’m dead?”

“I’ve heard that death is the final journey, some say that it’s freedom from suffering and pain, some say that we become stars when we die,” she replied as she felt her heart wither and die, but this needed to be done, “but in the end, no one knows for certain, Connor.”

Well, in her case, she’s literally died already, and she ended up getting shucked into a new world with a new lease on life.

And she already wanted to end it.

Huh, thinking about it, that was quick.

“Oh, I heard the priest’s songs about the Maker, but I don’t know Him at all,” Connor replied, “I wonder if He’s nice.”

“Your intentions were pure,” she smiled softly, “I’m sure He’ll see that and grant you peace.”

“Is it… going to hurt much?” Connor asked.

“No,” she shook her head, “I’ll make sure it won’t.”

“At least nobody will be hurt anymore, and maybe Father can be helped,” Connor replied, “that’s all I wanted. Just… just do it, then.”

“I won’t ask you to forgive me,” she said steeling herself as she changed her stance and raised her weapon, she could do it in one clean strike, “but I’m sorry, none-the-less.”

“You’ll never win!” Connor shouted in that unnatural voice and she leapt back, “you’ll never take him. He’s mine!”

She had hesitated, she had hesitated and now they would have to fight.

Why was she still so damn weak? Why was she still so damn incompetent?

Because she didn’t want to do this. She didn’t. She really really didn’t.

She hated that she had to do this, but this is what she was: a monster, an executioner. 

The predator who hunted those who preyed on others.

“Stop! Stop! Don’t hurt him!” Isolde screamed running in and she felt sick, she felt sick and nauseous, “please, have mercy on him! He’s just a boy! He doesn’t deserve this!”

_“KALLI! KALLI STOP!”_

_“Kalli…? Kalli… Kalli help me… Kalli…”_

“I can’t do this anymore,” she said simply and limply dropped her arms to her sides.

She’d waited too long, she’d hesitated, she shouldn’t have spoken to him, she should have just killed him.

It needed to be done, but she was weak.

She was tired.

***

Kallian had hesitated.

She’d gripped her weapons so tightly her knuckles had turned white and her hands had begun shaking. He could tell that she was dying inside. 

Perhaps he should have killed the boy for her.

Her eyes had widened and her complexion worsened after they found the Blacksmith’s daughter, and even more so just now. He had a feeling she was remembering something, recalling a time where she had been in a similar situation. Her facade had briefly fallen away, and for a split second, he saw through the cracks in her mask.

She was broken.

She was broken but pretending that she wasn’t. She was pretending that she was strong.

He knew because he was the same.

***

Connor begged his Mother for release, and she gave it to him as they waited out in the hall.

She wanted to run away, she wanted to throw herself off of a cliff.

But she couldn’t.

Not yet.

The Blight had to be ended first.

“It is done,” Isolde said walking out of the room.

“It’s… for the best,” she replied.

“I wonder just how long Eamon will survive, now that the demon cannot sustain him, will I lose my whole family, do you think?” Isolde replied, “enough… I wish to mourn my son, now. Give me that, at least.”

“Of course My Lady,” she replied and they left Castle Redcliffe.

She needed to get out of there, she needed to get out of the castle, she needed to be alone and to vomit and to scream and to cry.

“I need to talk to you,” Alistair said pulling her to the side as they were about to re-enter the village and she had a bad feeling about it, “about what happened. Just now.”

“Okay,” she replied signaling Morrigan and Zevran to head back to the inn first.

“You killed Connor. You killed him. A little boy,” Alistair glared, “how could you do that?”

“I didn’t enjoy it, Alistair,” she replied.

“You could have let the Arlessa sacrifice herself. Lady Isolde is the one who started all of it, isn’t she?” Alistair glowered, “blood magic or no, if one of them had to die, it should have been her. This is the Arl’s son we’re talking about here. What do you think he’ll say when we revive him?”

“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND, ALISTAIR!” she shouted, “are you just thinking about his life? Or are you thinking about his future?! Because _I_ was thinking about his future! You think he can recover from that? From that much death? From causing that much pain!? NO ONE CAN RECOVER FROM THAT, ALISTAIR! NO ONE! You would sentence him to that kind of life?! Living under that?! Which one of us is truly cruel? You don’t understand… and I don’t want you to be able to, either.”

“Kallian…” Alistair said staring at her in shock.

“Just… I need to be alone right now,” she replied curtly and walked off, leaving Alistair on his own.

She walked into the forest and continued walking in while making sure no one was following her until she was far in enough that no one should be able to find her, and she retched. She felt tears running down her face as a string of apologies spilled from her lips alongside the bile she could no longer hold back.

She was sorry. She was sorry. Shewassorryshewassorryshewassorryshewassorry.

She rinsed her mouth out, spat, tore her hair our of their bindings and she _ran_.

She ran, leapt, jumped, climbed.

Higher.

She needed to be higher.

Higherhigherhigherhigherhigher.

But… instead of free, instead of harmonious…

All she felt was empty and lost.

“See, Shianni?” she mumbled, “I told you I wasn’t a hero…”

She leaned back from where she stood and simply…

Fell.

She felt the wind rush through her, the weightlessness as gravity took control of her body, watched the stars get further away, the strands of her hair floating up past her face.

She closed her eyes.

Falling.

Floating.

But instead of the bush she’d planned to fall into, she found herself caught in two very strong arms.

And she was very confused.

***

He’d followed her after Alistair had said his piece, but she was too distracted, too sick to truly notice him.

He’d heard her string of apologies as she cried and vomited and clearly wanted to stay hidden. When she’d rinsed her mouth out, and stood up, he thought she’d return to Redcliffe, to the tavern they’d decided to stay at.

But she didn’t.

She was running, so he chased after her, and were it not for the brightly colored clothes she’d been wearing, he’d definitely have lost sight of her. 

She flowed over the terrain like a shadow, running, leaping, jumping, climbing.

He thought that Sten’s assessment of her a few days ago was incorrect: rather than a cat leaping into a tree, she looked like a bird taking flight.

He finally caught up to her as she stopped at the top of a tree perching herself perfectly upon the branch as she stared at the sky.

But then she leaned back and simply began to fall.

She looked like she was floating, she looked ephemeral, she looked like a star falling from the sky, and he couldn’t stop himself from moving.

When Kallian felt herself being caught in his arms, her eyes snapped open, and she looked delightfully confused.

She was smaller than he’d imagined, softer, not quite as muscled as he'd expected he couldn’t see much, but he could feel the shape of her body in his arms.

“Fueh?” Kallian stared up at him in wide-eyed shock, “what are you doing here?”

“I find myself wondering much the same, my dear Warden,” he replied with a smooth grin, “I happened to go for a walk and found myself catching the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

She clearly didn’t believe that for a second.

“No, seriously, what are you doing here?” Kallian asked with a frown, “and why am I in your arms?”

“Why were you falling from the sky?” he asked in return as he set her on her feet.

Truthfully, he didn’t know why he felt the need to follow her, to chase after her, all he knew was that he’d felt the need to do so. Perhaps it was out of curiosity, there was so much about her that he wanted to know, and he couldn’t help but find himself being drawn to her.

“Freedom, I wanted to feel freedom,” Kallian finally sighed as she closed her eyes, “that weightless feeling that you’re simply existing in a space, falling, floating, free.”

He wanted to ask her about her behavior before, about the string of apologies that had spilled from her lips. He wanted to ask her about the wide-eyed hysteria during the Chantry ceremony, about her behavior in Castle Redcliffe, but he had a feeling she would simply dodge and evade any questioning.

She always did, brushing her own pain away as if it didn’t exist, as if it were inconsequential.

He was much the same.

But now she was staring him in the eyes with a confused expression on her face, she was back on her feet, but she was still in his arms, and he did not want to let her go. They both knew she could free herself from him at any moment, but she didn’t, and he wondered what was going through her mind. 

“You know,” Kallian finally said, “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to just finish the job, go back for Alistair, and return to Antiva. You could easily snap my neck, you could easily steal my daggers.”

She did want to die.

He wanted to ask her why she wanted to die, but he wasn’t quite ready to tell anyone why he wanted to die, and he knew that if he asked her, she would ask him in return. He knew she knew his trap was a death wish, she didn’t say it, but he knew she did. There was no way she didn’t. Especially since she seemed to always be able to see into the truth of the matter.

“And lose this sudden refreshing taste of freedom?” he grinned and Kallian finally removed herself from his grasp with a sigh, “I think I should stay where I am.”

“If you insist,” Kallian huffed a laugh as she began trekking back towards Redcliffe, “still doesn’t explain why you’re all the way out here.”

Her back was to him, she truly didn’t care if he finished the job or not. What had happened to completely and utterly crush this strong, beautiful, and resilient woman? What could have possibly happened to her that would break her? He wanted to know, and before he even realized what he was doing, he’d yanked her back into his arms and his lips were on hers. 

He hadn’t meant to, or rather, he’d told her that he was a gentleman, and gentlemen don’t suddenly find themselves stealing someone's lips like this, and quite honestly? He didn’t know why he’d felt the need to. A desire to leave an impression on her, perhaps? To make her think of him? She was constantly on his mind, and perhaps he wanted to be constantly on hers.

Her hands came up, and he could tell that she wasn’t sure if she wanted to return his kiss or push him away.

She ended up pushing him away.

“You shouldn’t,” Kallian said quietly, and simply continued walking back towards Redcliffe.

She was broken, but so was he.

Maybe they could be broken together.

***

A bath had been drawn for her when she returned to the tavern they’d decided to stay at, she didn’t feel like sharing a room with anyone, so she didn’t. She stripped off her clothes and undid the bindings that made sure her chest didn’t kill her on the battlefield and unwrapped the bandages that hid her scars. She removed her make-up and heaved a sigh as she got into the bath.

She closed her eyes as she leaned back in the tub.

Another child’s blood was on her hands, another Arl’s son. She didn’t know how the orphanage fared because of her actions but she doubted it was good. Everything she touched was destined to fail, after all. All she did was bring death and misfortune, she was a herald of disaster, everything she touched was forever tainted.

Perhaps she should ditch her companions and continue onward on her own, it’d be better for everyone in the long run. She’d always hunted alone anyway, and she had a tongue silver enough to charm the stubbornest of people, she knew that. But she didn’t know exactly what kind of troubles the other places faced, something was happening in Orzammar, the Circle Tower, and the Brecilian Forest, and she wasn’t sure she could face those challenges alone. She decided to ponder her companions a bit.

Alistair… Alistair, she saw as a brother, sometimes a son, but he was naive and innocent in the ways of the world. He didn’t understand, and she didn’t want him to either. She didn’t want anyone to understand why she felt the need to kill Connor. She didn’t want to talk about the events that happened during her recruitment, how she demolished the guards in the Arl of Denerim’s estate out of anger, hatred, and pure unadulterated, and uncontrollable rage. 

She didn’t want to explain her reasons behind it, it wasn’t her story to tell: she was involved, sure, but it was a story she refused to tell without Shianni’s permission. No one wanted that kind of information just floating around. But Alistair… she’ll need to help him gain more confidence and more of a backbone so that he could continue on his own. Especially considering that she was going to die after the Blight.

A hand went to her lips. 

Zevran had kissed her. 

She wouldn’t deny the fact that she was interested in him too because she was. She’d felt a connection between them since they’d first met, and their personalities complimented each other's well. The problem was that he had once wished to die, something had crushed him to that point, but he didn’t seem to want to die, not anymore, and she didn’t want to ruin that. There was still hope for him, still salvation, but there wasn’t any for her. No matter what she did, there was nothing that could offset the amount of destruction she’d left in her wake. Zevran didn’t deserve that, not after the kind of life he was forced to live, and all she would do was hurt him. 

She had no plans to continue living once the Blight was over, she had plans to off herself, she didn’t deserve to live. Not only that but everyone she loved faced horrible fates. Like Shianni, and Nelaros… It was also too soon. A hand went to the ring she wore around her neck, and she felt tears welling up in her eyes. It wouldn’t be fair for her to start up any sort of relationship while her heart still yearned for another. It’d also be irresponsible of her to start anything knowing that she wasn’t going to live much longer. Knowing that she was going to kill herself after the Blight was over, she didn’t want to live anymore, she didn’t want to hurt anymore, she didn’t want to hurt others more than she already had.

It would be better for her to simply disappear.

The water was getting colder, so she lathered up a washcloth and began wiping down her body and began carefully washing her hair. She was tired, she was so very very tired. Too tired to continue thinking. She rinsed herself off, threw on a dress, wrapped her hair in a towel and simply face planted the bed in her room and fell asleep.

_Alistair was angry at her, Connor was staring at her accusingly, Isolde was screaming._

_And the masked woman was launching vicious attacks on her and she could barely keep up._

_Or was it that she didn’t want to keep up?_

_She knew what this woman wanted, she wanted her to accept her, but she didn’t want to. She didn’t truly want to accept the fact that all she did was hurt people, all she could do was be a harbinger of doom. She didn’t want to accept the raging hate-filled beast that this woman represented, she didn’t want to accept that it was, essentially, her fault Nelaros died. She’d loved him, she really did. In fact, she still did. He was more than she’d deserved, she could see herself living happily with him, starting a family, supporting each other through hard times, and cherishing every single moment with him…_

_But everything she touched was destined to fail._

_And so she let the masked woman kill her once again._

***

He had a hard time sleeping last night, the look on her face before she walked away, and her words kept coming back to the forefront of his mind:

_“NO ONE CAN RECOVER FROM THAT, ALISTAIR! NO ONE!”_

_“You don’t understand… and I don’t want you to be able too, either.”_

He needed to apologize.

“Where’s Kallian?” he asked as Leliana entered the dining area of the tavern.

“M’right here,” a muffled voice said and he turned to look at its origin, Kallian was sitting at a table with her face planted into the wood, her hand raised up at the elbow before she let it slap back down onto the table, “m’ still sleepy…”

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” he sighed moving to sit across from her, and she just gave him a thumbs up, “I— I’m… such an ass… I should have known better to second guess you like that… I should have known better than to get angry at you like that. You did what you had to… It’s just all this death…”

“Don’t worry Alistair,” Kallian replied propping her head upon her hand, “it’s not the first time someone’s angrily yelled at me for not being able to save someone.”

“…It’s not?” he stared at her in shock.

“Nah, my cousin’s got you way beat,” Kallian waved her other sleeve around, “I told you, right? My Aunt and Uncle? He asked me ‘why were you able to save all those other people, but not my parents!?’.”

That didn’t make him feel better in the slightest, in fact, it made him feel worse. Kallian was a woman whose entire life was marked with tragedy and death. With more tragedy than he could ever imagine, yet still stood strong. Whose had so much experience with death that she knew what to say when to say it, how to help people cope with their losses and how to help people begin to heal. 

And he lost it on her.


	20. How the Cat and Her Companions Took a Much Needed Rest

She went back to her room in the tavern. The mass funeral would be held tomorrow, so today they were free to meander and rest to their heart's content. So now she was sitting on the floor, leaning back against her bed with Diana laying next to her as she mindlessly pet her while wearily staring at her purse.

Twenty-five sovereigns.

She had twenty-five sovereigns.

Having this much money didn’t sit right with her, it made her nervous. It felt wrong.

She pulled out her book, ink, and quill:

_The Way is constant in non-action_  
_Yet there is nothing it does not do_  
_If the sovereign can hold on to this_  
_All things shall transform themselves_  
_Transformed, yet wishing to achieve_  
_I shall restrain them with the simplicity of the nameless_  
_The simplicity of the nameless_  
_They shall be without desire_  
_Without desire, using stillness_  
_The world shall steady itself_

She’ll go to the Chantry, give Bevin his sword back, and then she should wash her clothes and begin planning their next step, though she wanted to speak to Isolde, and Teagan first, but she understood that mourning could take a while, so she should use this time to mentally and emotionally recuperate. 

She also wanted to do her laundry so she stripped and threw on the dress Shianni had thrown into her pack without her knowing and looked down at her body with a frown. She spent two fucking years trying to put some fat on her body and now it was all being converted to muscle. All of her hard work would soon be gone, from her metabolism to the shape of her body. Ah, well, not that it mattered anymore. She wasn’t living past the Blight. Her fate was sealed. Still, it was a little sad that this whole ordeal had stolen even that from her.

Honestly, she just wanted to face plant straight back into bed, but there were still things that needed to be done. So she grabbed the borrowed sword and left with a sigh.

She didn’t know where everyone else was, probably also taking the time to relax and de-stress. It’s the first time they’d been able to relax since this madness began, and it’ll probably be a long time until they’re able to do so again…

Come to think of it, how should she treat Zevran? Because thinking about it, that was also her first kiss…

Let’s just treat him like normal, and forget that it was a thing that happened. Nothing would come of not treating him like normal, and nothing would come of remembering that he’d did it. She didn’t want him to give her a reason to live. She didn’t want to ruin him like she’d ruined so many others.

“I admit,” Bella said as she re-entered the main part of the tavern, Diana in tow, “for a while, I didn’t think either of us would survive. It’s good to see you did.”

“Of course we did, I am a master tactician, after all,” she grinned, “are you sure we can stay here for free?”

She wasn’t actually a master tactician, she was honestly just waiting for someone to call her out on it. She’d never studied either strategy or tactics, she’s honestly been winging it like crazy, but it’s been working so far so… whatever.

“Well, it’s my tavern so I don’t see why not,” Bella grinned.

“Thank you again, Bella,” she replied with a smile before leaving.

“Hey, Murdock,” she waved.

“I’m still amazed we made it through the night in one piece and won! They’ll be telling stories about this for years, I bet,” Murdock replied, “fighting’s not over, we still have Darkspawn to battle, and if the Arl sends out the call, I’ll be there for him.”

“True enough,” she sighed, “has everything been alright since…?”

“So far, yes,” Murdock replied, “though we’ll be fighting Darkspawn soon enough. I don’t look forward to it, but with the Maker’s luck, I’ll live through it all to tell my grandchildren a tale or two. Here’s to hoping you can do the same.”

“That’s a commendable attitude,” she nodded.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll offer the Maker a bit of thanks for not choosing to be a wrathful god,” Murdock replied, “good luck to you.”

“You as well,” she replied wondering if Kaitlyn and Bevin were still in the Chantry.

She covered her mouth with a hand as she yawned.

She needed something to laugh at… maybe she should throw a lump of mud at Alistair to make him look more recognizable. Or throw Zevran’s things in a lock-box… Or maybe she should just find a tall place to fall off of again.

There were a lot of Humans stopping her to thank her for what she’d done, and it was unnerving her for multiple reasons, one of them being that they were Humans, and another being that she caused the death of the Arl’s son…

No one should be thanking her for that, she decided to check up on the blacksmith and make sure his daughter reached him.

“My Valena returned! She told me of your daring rescue,” Owen said as she entered, “I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am.”

“I’m glad to see that she arrived home safely,” she smiled softly.

“Take this… a reward for your deed,” Owen said offering her a weapon, “it’s Dwarven made, and should serve you well.”

“It’s fine,” she said pressing it back into his hands she didn’t deserve to be thanked like this, “I don’t need a reward. You should keep it.”

“That’s even kinder of you,” Owen replied, “thank you again… I’m forever in your debt.”

“Stay safe,” she replied before leaving.

She decided to head into the Chantry to see if Kaitlyn and Bevin were still there.

They were.

“How are you two doing?” she asked.

“You saved us,” Kaitlyn replied, “I can’t believe we’re alive and it’s finally over.”

“What are you two going to do now?” she asked.

“With Mother and Father both gone… I suppose they’ll send us to an orphanage, maybe separated,” Kaitlyn replied, “but at least we’re still alive… I won’t forget what you did, though… Neither of us will. Thank you.”

“Why an orphanage?” she asked.

“With Mother and Father dead, we don’t have any money,” Kaitlyn replied and she saw a chance, “I think we have relatives in Denerim, but we’ve no way to get there… We’ll be fine, I promised Mother I’d see to Bevin’s safety, and I will.”

“Well, here’s your sword back, I used it to slay all of the bad people,” she said handing Bevin his heirloom sword, “and perhaps I could help you get to Denerim?”

“Oh! Your path is probably much too dangerous for us,” Kaitlyn replied, “there are wagons going there, but it would be expensive.”

“Here,” she said handing Kaitlyn a purse of ten sovereigns, “take this… I think you've got a better use for it than I.”

“That’s… I can’t… Are you sure?!” Kaitlyn gaped.

“Very,” she nodded with a soft smile.

She had been antsy about having that much money on her.

“That’s… That’s incredibly kind of you! This is more than I ever dreamed of!” Kaitlyn said happily, “with this, I can hire a wagon to take us to Denerim! We have family there, and they’ll take us in for sure now! Come on, Bevin, let’s find one now.”

“Safe travels, you two,” she waved after them, “and be sure to hide it well so that no one harms you for it.”

“Maker watch over you,” Kaitlyn replied, “I’ll never forget you.”

She decided to go secretly get her laundry done, she didn’t want anyone seeing her scars, it’d be a pain in the ass to explain. 

Laundry day attire was now the same in both worlds, apparently.

***

He couldn’t get it out of his head, why did Kallian understand what it was like to be the cause of as much pain and suffering as Redcliffe went through? How is that something she would know? She was calm, caring, and helpful… What would make her understand something like that? Or was it just her empathy? She did seem really good at putting herself in other’s shoes and understanding them. Maybe she knows someone who went through that… Actually, that was more likely.

“Hey, Alistair,” Elissa said walking up to him, “has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?”

“Not unless they were asking me for a favor, well, there was that one time in Denerim, but those women were… not like you,” he replied making sure Kallian wasn’t around, “why? Is this your way of telling me _you_ think I’m handsome?”

“And if it is?” Elissa asked, “what then?”

“Oh, nothing much, I just get to grin a bit and look foolish for a while,” he replied and Kallian’s telltale snort came from above.

“…Maker preserve us,” Elissa’s face went furiously red as she covered her face with her hands.

“Go figure out where Antiva is!” he groaned shaking a fist at the roof he’d heard the snort come from.

And then there was laughter, hysterical laughter.

Yep, it was just that she knew someone who went through what Connor did, there was no way she could do something like that herself. She’s not capable of that much death and destruction, especially since she’s said that she hated unnecessary violence and bloodshed.

Kallian fell into view, bunching her skirts in one hand as she did, letting go of them only when both her feet were planted on the ground.

“Eavesdropping is a terrible habit you know,” he said, “and why are you wearing a dress?”

“Hey, I was sitting on that roof long before you two began talking, nya,” Kallian replied laughingly, “and it’s because I wanted to wash all of my clothes.”

“…That’s a good idea,” he replied.

“Indeed it is, since we’ll be here for at least another day or two, and especially since I’m not sure when I’ll be able to properly wash them next,” Kallian nodded before turning to Elissa with a huge grin and he had a bad feeling, “oh my gosh, Elissa, you won’t _believe_ what Alista—”

“What was that? You wanted to talk about our next destination?” he said covering her mouth before dragging her away, “alright, sorry, Elissa, but we have to go discuss where we’re going next.”

She was going to tell Elissa about how he’d proudly stated that he locked himself in a cage for a whole day, he just knew it.

“By the way, Alistair, I have something for you,” Kallian said as she pulled something out of her pocket and handed it to him.

“This… this is my Mother’s amulet… It has to be,” he stared at it in shock, “but why isn’t it broken? Where did you find it?”

“I found it while I was cornered in the Arl’s study,” she replied, “it was on his desk.”

“Oh. The Arl’s study?” he asked and she nodded, “then he must have… found the amulet after I threw it at the wall. And he repaired it and kept it? I don’t understand, why would he do that?”

“Mayhaps you mean more to him than you think,” Kallian replied.

“I… guess you could be right… We never really talked that much, and the way I left…” he sighed, “thank you. I mean it. I… I thought I lost this to my own stupidity… I’ll need to talk to him about this. If he recovers from his… _when_ he recovers, that is. I wish I’d had this a long time ago…”

“That’s right, positive thinking, and at least you have it now,” Kallian grinned, and he just felt guiltier for having lost it on her about Connor. She’d helped him cope with losing Duncan, and she was doing everything she could to help others, helped support him when he needed it and he’d gotten angry at her.

_“He asked me ‘why were you able to save all those other people, but not my parents?!’.”_

She’d lived through and experienced more tragedy than he could even begin to comprehend yet somehow she was still smiling, grinning, and laughing. Everyone had been thinking about the present, while she had been thinking of Connor’s future, and when he’d personally thought about it, there was no way he would be able to live with that over him either. There was no way anyone would be able to live with that over their heads. 

She was the only one who was truly thinking about him and his future, she was the only one who considered how he’d feel about causing all that death, about causing his Mother to die for him. She was the only one who saw, knew, and understood the circumstances and was the only one who acted in Connor’s best interests. She was the only one. Everyone else just wanted to preserve his life, and she was the only one who actually genuinely considered Connor and his feelings.

And no one considered just how painful making that decision was for her.

“Did you remember me mentioning it? Wow,” he replied, “I’m more used to people not really listening when I go on about things.”

“Hm? Sorry, did you say something?” Kallian asked, “I seem to suddenly have selective hearing again, and have thusly not heard your last statement.”

“Ho, ho, ho, see this gesture I’m making? Can you hear that?” he asked waving his hands around, “oh, actually, there was something I wanted to ask you.”

“Why, yes, Alistair,” Kallian replied blankly, “yes I am a woman.”

“No, no, not that, well, not right now, anyway,” he replied, “chances are we’ll be heading to Denerim soon, and when we’re there I wonder if we might be able to… look someone up.”

“Whoa… what about Elissa?” Kallian replied, “or is it about Loghain? Because don’t worry, the fucker will get what’s coming to him, promise.”

“No, I… I know that, but that’s not what I’m talking about, the thing is, I have a sister: a half-sister. I told you about my Mother, right? She was a servant at Redcliffe Castle, and she had a daughter… only I never knew about her,” he replied, “I don’t think she knew about me, either. They kept my birth a secret, after all. But after I became a Grey Warden I did some checking and… well, I found out she’s still alive. In Denerim.”

“Oh, have you tried contacting her?” Kallian asked.

“No, I thought about writing her, but I never did, and then we were called down to Ostagar and I never got the chance,” he explained, “she’s the only real family I have left, the only family not also mixed up in the whole royal thing. I’ve just been thinking that… maybe it’s time I went to see her.”

“I see,” Kallian replied closing her eyes in thought.

“It’s just… with the Blight coming and everything, I don’t know if I’ll ever get another chance to see her,” he replied, “maybe I can help her, warn her about the danger, I don’t know.”

“I’m pretty sure she knows about the Blight and what-not,” Kallian replied wryly, “but if you want to, we could try.”

“Could we? I’d appreciate that… if something happened to her and I never went to at least see her, I don’t know if I could forgive myself,” he replied brightly, “her name is Goldanna and I think she remarried but still lives just outside the Alienage. If we’re in the area, then… well, it’s worth a look.”

“Of course, Alistair,” Kallian grinned.

“And I wanted to apologize again… for last night,” he sighed, “that decision couldn’t have been easy for you to make…”

“As far as I’m concerned, that’s water under the bridge already,” Kallian replied wryly bending one of her hands and then passing the other hand underneath it, “and it was actually an easy decision for me to make.”

“What?” he asked in shock.

“Remember this, Alistair: making decisions is easy. It’s carrying them out, that’s the hard part,” Kallian said holding up her index finger while still holding her sleeves to her palms, “I’d made the decision easily enough, but when it came down to carrying it out, my hands were shaking and I hesitated. It needed to be done but I was weak… And because of that, Isolde had to do it.”

“I see…” he replied in thought, “you know, I was doing some thinking, and I realized… you were the only one who truly considered Connor.”

“Well… I mean,” Kallian sighed closing her eyes, “I wouldn’t have been able to live under that kind of pressure. I would have hated myself so much… But then since my Mother had died to save me, there was no way I could throw that life away… I would have lived hating myself. There’s just no way I would be able to live with myself like that.”

Ah, so it was just her empathy talking… Of course, it was, there was no way she could have done something on the scale of Connor. She cared about people way too much, and she always carefully considered her actions, and the effect they would have on others.

“By the way, where do you think we should go next?” he asked.

“Kinloch Hold, there might be someone who can figure something out,” Kallian replied closing her eyes in thought, “and from there… I don’t know, I wanted to speak to the Arlessa and Bann Teagan first before planning anything after that.”

“…How did your Aunt and Uncle die?” he finally asked, “if you don’t mind me asking.”

“Fire, their house caught fire during a riot… I was too late to save them, in fact, by the time I ran into their house I’d already been too late. I barely had enough time to run back outside before the house fell,” Kallian replied as her gaze suddenly lost focus, then she shook her head and patted him on the head, “but it took my cousin a good month or so to apologize for getting angry with me, so good on you for only taking a few hours.”

“A month?” he asked.

“It… can be difficult to apologize,” Kallian explained, “and sometimes it’s especially hard when you wait too long.”

***

He couldn’t help but feel annoyed at the sight of Alistair dragging Kallian off, especially since Kallian began laughing hysterically after he’d released her, and especially considering last night, when she’d been reduced to a crying vomiting mess. And especially while she was wearing that dress. Her body truly was smaller, softer, but not quite as full as he’d thought, she was still far more on the slender side, perhaps it had felt that way because of how baggy her clothes were. Though her sleeves were still incredibly long, and he wondered why she preferred long sleeves.

Though thinking about it… 

_“You shouldn’t.”_

Why did she say that he shouldn’t? Why shouldn’t he? Why was it ‘you shouldn’t’? If he asked, she’d probably just dodge his questions.

If one were to closely examine her words, you could see a deeper meaning to them. You could see vague glimpses of hints at her past, and at her pain. He wondered what happened to her in an Arl’s estate. Did a man touch her? Lay his hands on her? No, that wasn’t it, she didn’t regard Human men any differently, and normally, one who’d been through that would. She’d let Alistair cover her mouth and drag her off as well so that definitely couldn’t be it.

And then there was that seemingly endless stream of apologies that she’d cried as she’d vomited. Was she apologizing because of Connor? Or was it something else? A different event that’d happened earlier in her life, perhaps?

She truly was constantly on his mind.

“Do you really want what’s under this skirt that badly?” Kallian asked wryly as she lifted her skirts just slightly.

“A beautiful woman like yourself?” he replied with a smooth grin, “who wouldn’t?”

“The men in the Alienage,” Kallian replied flatly, “and a lot of other people.”

“There must be something wrong with the men in the Alienage,” he replied.

“Or maybe,” Kallian grinned, “there’s something wrong with you.”

“Well, I won’t deny that,” he chuckled, “especially considering my line of work.”

“What does it take to be an assassin anyway?” Kallian asked.

“Oh? Are you interested in becoming an assassin?” he quirked a brow.

“No, not really,” Kallian replied waving a sleeve around, “I was just curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat, my dear Warden,” he noted, “which you seem to be.”

“But satisfaction brought it back,” Kallian stuck her tongue out at him, and he wanted to claim her lips again. 

He couldn’t help but want to be on her mind, he wanted her to think of him. He didn’t quite know why that was, but he did. Yet here she was, treating him as if nothing had happened, something that was mildly frustrating. Then again, it was just a kiss, after all. He can’t really expect that she would act differently about just a kiss.

“Well, the _Crows_ would have you believe that it is an involved process that takes years of training, the sort that tests both your resolve and endurance. Survive that process and maybe, just maybe, you’re good enough to start being considered one of them,” he explained, “but quite frankly, the truth is that all it requires is a desire to kill people for a living. It’s surprising how well one can do in such a field.”

“…They don’t teach you how to pick locks though, I see,” Kallian replied, a sleeved hand on her mouth clearly trying to hold in her laughter, “but I— I’m sure you did well in the other aspects of it.”

She was never going to forget the fact that he lied about being able to pick locks, and just as she said, she’d probably remember and laugh about it for the rest of her life.

“Within the Crows, I did. But it has been something the Crows have devoted a great deal of time to perfecting,” he sighed, “an assassin simply specializes in striking from stealth… and in maximizing the first attack to be as lethal as possible. Debilitate your foe, either by poison or crippling their limbs, makes any follow-up combat you need to engage in that much simpler.”

“You always use poison, then?” Kallian tilted her head to the side.

“I do. It is not something inherent in an assassin’s skills, however… merely something complementary,” he nodded, “of course, the Crows like to pretend that their abilities are trade secrets, shrouded in shadows and wrapped in a blanket of mystery… So let’s just keep this between you and me, shall we, hmm?”

“Well, I have no reason to spill their secrets,” Kallian huffed a laugh.

“By the way, my dear lady, if you like falling from high places so much,” he decided to ask with a smooth grin, “would you be up for a little bit of naked cliff-diving?”

“Huh, weird,” Kallian replied in a daze, “I didn’t think you’d just come out and ask me like that.”

“So, is that a no?” he asked.

“Mhm, I’m onto you,” Kallian laughed.

“I’d much rather you be on me,” he replied with a smooth grin.

“Whoaaa, crazy,” Kallian replied in surprise, “I didn’t think you’d just say it like that, but it’s still a no.”

***

She was grateful that they would be resting at Redcliffe for another day or two, and she could tell that everyone else was the same. If they didn’t take a break, they’d likely reach their wit's end soon, so now Kallian was sitting on her bed with her back to her so that she could play with her hair, there were some things she wanted to tell her.

“That’s a nice dress,” she said, “but I thought extravagance was the enemy.”

“It cost me less than a sovereign,” Kallian replied, “I make all of my own clothes.”

“You made this?!” she gasped.

“Yeah, sewing and embroidery require deft hands, just like lock picking,” Kallian nodded, “my cousin had zero patience so I ended up having to sew her clothes together too.”

“How much would it cost for you to make me one?” she asked.

“Well, we can talk about it when the Blight’s over,” Kallian said clapping her hands together, “come to think of it, there was something I wanted to ask you…”

“What’s on your mind?” she asked as she braided her hair.

“That vision of yours…” Kallian replied trailing off and she sighed heavily.

“I knew this would come up sooner or later,” she replied before recounting her dream, “I don’t know how to explain, but I had a dream… In it, there was an impenetrable darkness… it was so dense, so real. And there was a noise, a terrible ungodly noise… I stood on a peak and watched as the darkness consumed everything… and when the storm swallowed the last of the sun’s light, I… I fell, and the darkness drew me in.”

“I’ve heard of prophetic dreams before, or rather, clairvoyant dreams,” Kallian replied, probably closing her eyes in thought, “what happened next?”

“When I woke, I went to the Chantry’s gardens, as I always do. But that day, the rosebush in the corner had flowered,” she continued, “everyone _knew_ that bush was dead. It was grey and twisted and gnarled— the ugliest thing you ever saw, but there it was— a single beautiful rose… It was as though the Maker stretched out His hand to say: ‘even in the midst of this darkness, there is hope and beauty. Have faith.’.”

“So you sought us out,” Kallian replied thoughtfully.

“In my dream, I fell, or… or maybe I jumped… I’d do anything to stop the Blight, and I know that we can do it,” she replied, “there are so many good things in the Maker’s world. How can I sit by while the Blight devours… everything?”

“I suppose I couldn’t sit by either,” Kallian sighed.

“Isn’t that why you are a Grey Warden?” she asked.

“Err… Well, I actually just figured it’d work itself out somehow,” Kallian admitted, “I knew absolutely nothing about the Blight, Darkspawn, Old Gods, Archdemons, Grey Wardens, and I thought it had nothing to do with me… Well, look at me now.”

“Indeed,” she replied, “why did you become a Grey Warden?”

“Errr…” Kallian trailed off.

“If you don’t want to talk about it yet, then that is okay,” she said as she tied off her hair with a braided cord.

“Well, it’s more that I’d like to just say it while everyone’s there,” Kallian sighed turning around to face her.

“There was something else I wanted to tell you,” she admitted, “I lied to you, you know? About why I left Orlais?”

“Hmm?” Kallian hummed, “you did?”

“I didn’t feel like talking about it then. What happened to me… maybe it will affect us, maybe not, but you should know,” she sighed, “I came to Ferelden and the Chantry because I was being hunted, in Orlais.”

“Hunted? what for?”

“I was framed, betrayed by someone I thought I knew I could trust. Marjolaine— she was my mentor… and friend,” she explained, “she taught me the bardic arts— how to enchant with words and song, to carry myself like a high-born lady, to blend in as a servant… The skills I learned I used to serve her, my bard-master, because I loved her, and because I enjoyed what I did.”

“How did she betray you?”

“You can say it was my fault. There was a man I was sent to kill. I was to bring Marjolaine everything he carried. I don’t know who this man was, she gave me a name and a description, and I hunted him down. I found documents on his body— sealed documents.”

“And you opened them, didn’t you?”

“My curiosity got the better of me, something told me that I needed to know what was in those letters… Marjolaine had been selling all kinds of information about Orlais to other countries— Nevarra and Antiva, among others… It was treason.”

“Uwaaa… That’s pretty bad…”

“Indeed, I also considered it to be bad… My life as a bard taught me that my loyalties should be kept fluid, but my concern was not that she was a traitor, but that her life would be in danger if she was caught… Orlais has been at war with so many countries, and it takes a harsh view of such things… as I later discovered.”

“What do you mean?” Kallian asked, “though I suppose most countries don’t really appreciate treason…”

“I should have left well alone, but I didn’t… I had to tell Marjolaine I feared for her life. She brushed aside my concern. She admitted her guilt but said it was in the past, that is why the documents had to be destroyed, she said. I believed her… I kept believing, up till the moment they showed me the documents, altered by her hand to make _me_ look the traitor.”

“She truly betrayed you, then.”

“Yes… The Orlesian guards, they captured me… did terrible things to make me confess and reveal my conspirators… It was a traitor’s punishment I endured, and at the end of it, all that awaited me was an eternity in an unmarked grave.”

“How did you get out?”

“The skills Marjolaine taught me were good for something, at least. I broke free when I saw the opportunity… I did not seek Marjolaine out. If she thought I was coming for her, she would have me caught again.”

“And so you came to Ferelden, to Lothering.”

“I was tempted to confront her; I was furious, betrayed, but what could I do against her? And so I fled, to Ferelden, to the Chantry, and the Maker. Ferelden protected my person, and the Maker saved my soul… and that is the reason I am here. The real reason. No more lies between us, at least in this.”

“Thank you for trusting me with this,” Kallian said.

“It feels good to have this off my chest,” she smiled softly, “thank you for listening, and understanding.”

“Listening and understanding are two of the things I do best,” Kallian grinned, “shall we go eat something?”

“Of course,” she replied, “I’ve been feeling a little hungry myself.”

***

“So, are you a very religious man, Alistair? I am curious,” he said, “I believe I heard you say you were raised in an abbey?”

“I was raised in a castle, I was schooled in an abbey. As far as being religious… I don’t know,” Alistair replied, “not especially, what about you? Not in your line of work, I expect.”

“Why do you say that?” he replied noticing Kallian and Leliana enter the main part of the tavern, “I happen to be quite devoted, in my way, as most Antivans are.”

“Truly? But you kill people,” Alistair frowned, “for money.”

“And I ask forgiveness for my sins from the Maker every chance I get,” he replied, “what manner of monster do you think I am?”

“But… you ask forgiveness,” Alistair was trying to wrap his head around this, “and then you go right on with your sinning!”

“The Maker has never objected,” he stated, “why should you?”

“I… have no idea,” Alistair said finally.

“Well, there you go,” he replied, “perhaps you ought to think about asking for a little forgiveness yourself, hm?”

“Ahahaha,” Kallian laughed, “he hasn’t been smot for his insolence yet, so there’s that… though I know I’ve been waiting for a lightning strike to the face for a while now.”

“Why would the Maker smite you?” Alistair quirked a brow.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Kallian sighed, “multiple reasons, really.”

“Such as?” he asked, and Kallian simply smiled and pressed a finger to her lips.

A secret then, how cheeky of her.

“Why are you here?” Sten asked Leliana.

“What do you mean?” Leliana replied.

“Women are priests, artisans, farmers, or shopkeepers,” Sten explained, “none of them have any place in fighting.”

“I… have no idea how to answer this…” Leliana sighed.

“It is not done,” Sten said, “there is no more to it.”

“Do you mean your people have no female mages or warriors?” Leliana asked.

“Of course not,” Sten replied, “why would our women wish to be men?”

“What are you talking about?” Leliana frowned, “they don’t wish to be men.”

“They shouldn’t,” Sten said, “that can only lead to frustration.”

“Sten… no, never mind,” Leliana sighed, “let’s drop this.”

“You haven’t asked Kallian why she’s here,” Alistair pointed out.

“I am here because I am a strong independent woman, who doesn’t need anyone to tell her what to do,” Kallian replied flatly, “and who also strongly dislikes being told that she must conform to socially constructed roles on peoples views of gender. If you want to conform to them, good on you. Just don’t force me to conform to them as well.”

“Are you certain you didn’t drive the men back home wild?” he asked.

“…Can you please stop rubbing it in?” Kallian sighed, “the women in my family, have always been described as fiery. But while beautiful and enchanting, fire still burns and harms everything it touches.”

He could have sworn he heard her mumble something along the lines of _“I should know”_.

“It is useless to ask Kallian why she is here,” Sten replied, “because this is her role.”

“But you just said that there are no women who fight in the Qun,” Leliana frowned.

“Kallian would be part of the _Ben-Hassrath_ ,” Sten replied, “a religious enforcer.”

“Objection!” Kallian shouted, “I hate telling people what to do! Especially because I hate being told what to do! There is only one person I will obediently listen to!”

“And who would that be?” Morrigan asked.

“My Father!” Kallian replied proudly, “because Kallian is a good daughter who does not want to make her Father’s life harder. Also, because he rarely asks me to do something, and if he does, it’s because he can’t stand me putting myself in danger anymore… But some days I even hate telling _myself_ what to do.”

“That makes no sense,” Sten replied.

“I know, right?” Kallian shrugged, “even _I’m_ illogical every now and again.”

A man walked into the tavern and straight up to Kallian and a hand went to one of his daggers, though the woman could easily defend herself. She did better in bare-fisted combat as well.

“You’re a hard woman to find!” the Man said.

“You were looking for me?” Kallian tilted her head to the side as she pointed at herself.

“Yes I was, where are my manners? The name is Levi, Levi Dryden,” Levi replied, “did Duncan ever mention me? Levi of the Coins? Levi the Trader?”

“Errr… If you want to know about Duncan,” Kallian replied gesturing in Alistair’s direction as he waved, “you should ask Amicably Avid Alistair… He knows him far better than I do.”

“Do you have alliteration titles for everyone?” Leliana asked.

“Almost, Lovely Lilting Leliana,” Kallian replied, “Z’s are hard.”

“I don’t think I heard anything,” Alistair replied moving to sit next to her, “or maybe I did…”

“You did seem to be bad with names,” Kallian nodded gesturing for Levi to sit with them, “since you’d apparently forgotten mine before we met.”

“Really? He never told you of old Levi?” Levi asked taking a seat, “we’ve known each other for years…”

“I only knew Duncan for roughly a month,” Kallian replied with a shrug.

“I see… but here I am carrying on while you have a Blight to stop,” Levi replied, “don’t want to waste your time.”

“We’re probably going to be in Redcliffe for a day or two more for multiple reasons,” Kallian replied waving a sleeve around, “so it’s fine.”

“I see, so you see, Duncan promised that together we’d look into something important for the Wardens, and for me,” Levi replied, “but poor Duncan’s… well, no more. A tragedy it is, at that. But I know he would want his work carried on. His pledge fulfilled.”

“What did promise did Duncan make to you?” Alistair asked.

“My family… well, our past is a bit checkered, you see? Nobles look at us with disdain,” Levi explained, “my Great-Great-Grandmother, Sophia Dryden, was the last Warden-Commander of Ferelden, back when the Wardens were known as freeloaders. So King Arland banished the Wardens and he took House Dryden’s land and titles.”

“What happened next?” Kallian asked.

“Hard to say… After King Arland died, there was a civil war, loads worse than this one,” Levi continued, “and our family was on the run, hunted by enemies— with nary a friend in the world. But Dryden's are tough. We rebuilt, became merchants. And we never lost our pride.”

“So what favor did you ask of Duncan?” Alistair asked.

“I asked for the truth. My family reveres Sophia Dryden… We know she died at the old Grey Warden base, Soldier’s Peak,” Levi replied, “we want evidence to clear her name. It won’t restore our land or our titles, but it’ll restore our honor.”

“I’ve never even heard of Soldier’s Peak,” Kallian replied.

“That’s not really surprising,” Alistair pointed out, “considering you don’t even know where Antiva is.”

“Alistair,” Kallian replied with a proud smirk, “I don’t even know where _Gwaren_ is, and that’s where my Mother’s from… In fact, I didn’t even know where _Ostagar_ was.”

“…Kallian… I don’t think you should be saying that proudly,” Alistair sighed.

“You think I had the time or money to waste on information like that?” Kallian frowned, “I needed to choose what I could do with my spare money wisely… especially back when my appetite was monstrous.”

“Your appetite’s been pretty monstrous lately,” Alistair pointed out.

“I know,” Kallian sniffed covering her face with her hands, “and I hate it… the larger my appetite is the smaller my purse gets, and the smaller my purse gets the more worried I am that I’ll be able to buy the things I need… I spent an entire year slowing down my metabolism via the starvation method, you know? A fucking _year_ , and all that hard work… gone.”

Poverty… was a harsher mistress than he’d thought… And he could tell everyone else was thinking something along the same lines.

The Crows truly had nothing on this woman’s life as she faced off against poverty and oppression to the point of not understanding armor, and having to choose between eating and buying the necessities.

“Well, no one’s been to Soldier’s Peak since Arland’s days. At least none that’s come back,” Levi coughed, “I spent years mapping the maze of tunnels to the peak. And I found the way a few years back. So I went to Duncan, I did, and I said that he could reclaim the old base and my family could have its honor.”

“Why didn’t Duncan help you?” Kallian asked.

“Darkspawn surfaced in southern Ferelden, and Duncan got plenty busy recruiting new Wardens and meeting with good King Cailan,” Levi replied, “Duncan said he would help after the Battle of Ostagar. Said there might be useful things at the Peak… But he never had the chance.”

“Your family’s faith will be rewarded,” Alistair declared, “we’ll help you.”

“A thousand blessings upon you, Wardens,” Levi replied, “I’ll mark the location on your map… When you arrive, we’ll pick our way through the tunnels together!”

“I’ll go get our map,” Kallian sighed, stood up and left, Diana following after her.

“She spent a year starving herself to decrease her appetite…” Alistair said in shock, “a whole year… because of poverty…”

“Don’t feel so bad, Alistair,” Kallian stated knocking Alistair on the back of the head while laying the map out on the table, “it’s because of hardships like that that I became easily adaptable to new situations: if I hadn’t lived in that kind of environment, I’d probably have lost my mind about three months ago… And it’s not exactly survival of the fittest, Morrigan, it’s actually survival of those who can adapt to their new environments best. If you adapt, you live, if you don’t, you die. Simple as that. My surroundings pressured me into becoming what I am now, so, such hardships were necessary. I don’t feel like my life was sad or pitiful in the least, because I would not be who I am today if I’d had any sort of different life, nya. Everyone else here is the exact same: if we didn’t live the lives we did, we wouldn’t be who we are, and that’s a rather scary thought, nya.”

“I hate… that you just said something incredibly profound,” Alistair sighed, “and then ruined it by sounding like a cat.”

“I had to balance myself out somehow, nyah-ha-ha-ha,” Kallian laughed as Levi began marking Soldier’s Peak out on the map.

“By that logic,” he pointed out, “I believe you would have survived training as a Crow.”

“Nah, because like I said, my life was filled with laughter and love,” Kallian replied, “the things I’m able to do are solely because I was motivated by love, and I’ve told you: I would have wondered what the point was.”

“Love?” Morrigan frowned.

“Yeah, whenever things happened and I couldn’t protect those I loved most, I’d hate the powerless me who too was slow, weak, and incompetent,” Kallian nodded, “and so each and every time I vowed that I would never be that powerless again, and pushed myself and just kept pushing and pushing andpushingandpushingandpushing myself to my limits and then past them over and over andoverandoverandoverandover again. Eventually, I got to this point.”

If that were the case… How had she been broken so wholly and completely? How could something have broken her to the point of wanting to die? Why had she apologized profusely as she cried and vomited by herself? Or was she like him? In that, something had happened to someone she loved? Thinking about it, that was far more likely. He wanted to ask her, but he knew that she’d just end up feigning ignorance and ask him what he was talking about. She was a good actress, his Warden was… If he hadn’t been experiencing the same, he’d have never known.

But he was realizing that he didn’t want to die anymore, whereas she was still set on her path, and she probably knew this. That was probably why she’d told him that he shouldn’t: she was continuing on the path that would end in her doom, and she didn’t want to chance dragging him along with her. She’d realized this quickly, and was telling him to cease and desist for his own benefit.

So, now the question becomes: can he convince her to stray from her path as well?

Odd, he was hired to kill her, and now he was contemplating how he could go about stopping her from ending herself.

“By the way, Zevran,” Alistair said after Levi had left, “do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

“You may ask,” he nodded, “but I may choose not to answer.”

“Fair enough. Have you… had very many women in your time?” Alistair asked and Kallian’s hands flew to her mouth, “I mean… you seem like the sort of man who would…”

“I have indulged from time to time, perhaps,” he nodded glancing at Kallian whose face planted itself into the table as her body began spasming, “when my interest is not elsewhere.”

“Right. Well, how do you… woo them?” Alistair asked and Kallian’s body began spasming even harder, “is there a… technique? Or…”

“’Woo them?’,” he quirked a brow, “are you quite serious?”

“Er… yes?” Alistair replied, “I don’t know what else to call it.”

“So let me get this straight: you have… never wooed?” he asked, “not once? You are woo-less, as it were?”

“Alright, bad idea,” Alistair sighed, “never mind.”

And Kallian couldn’t handle it anymore and entered her loudest and most hysterical laughing fit yet.

“BWAHAHAHA!!! AHAHAHAHAHA!!!” Kallian laughed, “D’AHAHAHAHA!! HEEHEEEEHEEE!”

“Right… very bad idea,” Alistair sighed heavily as Kallian laughed so hard she began slamming her fists, sleeves and all, into the table and stomping her feet.

“It hurts! AHAHAHAHA! It— It hurts! My cheeks! My sides!” Kallian cackled clutching at herself, “BWAHAHAHA!! I can’t— I can’t breathe! Dying! I’m dying! AHAHAHAHA!”

“She’s never going to let me live this down, is she?” Alistair asked.

“Of course she’s not,” Morrigan rolled her eyes, “were you not the buffoon that you are, you would know this by now.”

“Morrigan,” Kallian chastised with a frown.

“You are not our Mother,” the two said in unison before glaring at each other again, causing Kallian to snort with laughter.

“You know,” Alistair sighed, “I wouldn’t be surprised if you actually died laughing.”

“There are worse ways to go, and at least then I’ll die as I lived: laughing,” Kallian said propping her chin up with one hand, “so, Zevran, tell us about your adventures.”

“My adventures?” he chuckled, “I’m hardly an old man just returned from across the ocean, am I? Should I shake my fist at nearby children while I talk about the good old days?”

“Well… I mean, if you want. No one's stopping you, but I get to laugh at you if you do,” Kallian shrugged before covering her mouth with her other hand, “I mean I already laughed at Alistair for shaking his fist at me, so it’s fair game.”

“Then I shall make a note not to,” he replied wryly, he really didn’t want to give her another reason to laugh at him. 

Unlike Alistair, he’s learned his lesson.

“You’ve certainly had more adventures than I,” Kallian replied.

“Falling down a flight of stairs is an adventure. Falling into someone’s bed? Also an adventure. I am assuming what you’re looking for are professional anecdotes,” he replied and she nodded, “let’s see… my second mission ever for the Crows was a bit intriguing. I was sent to kill a mage who had been meddling in politics.”

“Meddling in politics?” Kallian quirked a brow, “how?”

“How should I know? I got the impression it involved sex… but then I get that impression about most everything. Odd, really,” he shrugged, “as it turned out, the mage in question was quite a delightful young woman. Long, divine legs, as I recall. I caught her in a carriage on her way to escape to the provinces. After I killed her guard, she got down on her hands and knees and begged for her life… rather aptly, I might add. So I joined her in the carriage for the night and left the next morning.”

“And… she didn’t try killing you?” Alistair asked butting into the conversation.

“Well, yes. Twice, actually. Then she decided to try and use me, instead, the woman had actually convinced me to speak to the Crows on her behalf. What can I say? I was young and foolish at the time,” he recounted, “then as I was kissing her good-bye to return to Antiva City, she slipped on the threshold and fell backwards out of the carriage. Broke her neck. Shame, really, but at least it happened quickly.”

“So you didn’t actually kill her,” Kallian huffed a laugh.

“Not actually, no. I was a bit unimpressed by the development, at first, then I found out she had told the driver to take her to Genellan instead. She had planned to lose me in the provinces. I would have looked very foolish to the Crows,” he sighed, “as it was, my master was very impressed that I had done such a fine job of making it look like an accident. The Circle of Magi was unaware of foul play and everyone was happier all around.”

“These sorts of things happen to you often?” Kallian asked.

“Like being spared by a benevolent mark who then helps me escape from the Crows?” he grinned, “yes, it does seem to happen now and again, doesn’t it?”

“Luck seems to be on your side,” Kallian said wryly.

“It was after that when I learned that one needn’t let a pretty face go to your head,” he replied, “professionalism was key… That’s my moral of the day, you see.”

“Oh! A rhyme,” Kallian said, “and it’s a wise lesson to learn.”

“And one that not everyone learns, I’m sad to say,” he sighed, “but that’s enough tale-spinning from me, for the moment. Talking about the mage has made me a bit nostalgic, I’m afraid. Ah, the good old days.”

“Are you thinking about her legs?” Kallian grinned.

“I’m thinking about how I want to see your legs,” he replied smoothly.

“Whoaaaaa,” Kallian said in shock, “I don’t know why I’m still surprised to hear you say these things, but here we are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Tao Te Ching Chapter Thirty-Seven_


	21. How the Cat Agreed to Look for the Holy Grail

By the time the mass funeral was over, it was already late afternoon, and after the funeral had finished, they were called to Castle Redcliffe to reconvene with both Teagan and Isolde in order to plan their next step. She still had plans to go to Kinloch Hold first, and it seemed Arl Eamon was in stable condition, so they should have time, and she really wanted to go to Denerim, locate a book store, and do research into Grey Wardens and the previous Blights. There was a secret to be unlocked there, and the only key she could hope to get her hands on at this point was the knowledge currently available in books. Of course, she still had plans to infiltrate the Alienage and leave Shianni a letter.

Thankfully, since she wasn’t fighting through the castle eradicating the guards while trying to save people, she was able to keep control of her stomach, anxiety, and what little remained of her sanity.

“So, it is over,” Teagan sighed, “Connor is dead and the demon gone with him. With its creatures vanquished, the castle is back under our control. I thought I’d never see my brother again.”

“My son, your nephew, is dead,” Isolde replied curtly, “do not forget that in your great relief, Teagan.”

“How could I, My Lady?” Teagan replied, “Eamon has much to mourn if he recuperates.”

“When he recuperates,” she said speaking up, “not ‘if’ it’s ‘when’.”

“Of course… There is still the matter of Jowan, his poisoning Eamon began this whole mess, yet he lives,” Teagan replied, “I must decide what becomes of him… We will hold him for Eamon to decide his fate. If he doesn’t recover, Jowan’s fate is sealed. What do you think?”

She was still of the opinion that, quite frankly, it was Isolde who started this whole mess. However, the woman has seen better days, and it’s against her policy to kick a person while they’re down. Not only that, but why the hell was he asking her? Why can’t they just treat her like an inconsequential Elven servant? Why should her opinions be important? This was just wrong on so many different levels. First, she was leading around Humans, then she was thanked by a _Bann_ and offered an heirloom helm, then she was thanked for having a hand in killing a child, and now said earlier Bann was asking for her opinion on what to do with a mage.

How the fuck should she know? She should be rotting in a dungeon about now, in fact, that would even be preferable, because at least _that_ made sense.

“Do as you wish,” she replied.

“Very well, I shall have the mage imprisoned again, for now,” Teagan nodded, “but our task is not done yet. Whatever the demon did to my brother, it seems to have spared his life… but he remains comatose. We cannot wake him.”

“We’re planning on heading to Kinloch Hold next,” she replied, “hopefully we can find someone who knows… something.”

“The Urn!” Isolde said moving to the Arl’s side, “the Urn of Sacred Ashes will save Eamon!”

“We’ll seek out this Urn,” she replied, it was honestly the least she could do. She did have a hand in killing the woman’s son, so trying to locate it would probably be best.

“Thank you… I am grateful for your eagerness to help restore my husband,” Isolde replied, “find Brother Genitivi— the Scholar— in Denerim. He has been researching the Urn’s location for several years now. The knights that returned say that they were unable to find Genitivi, but perhaps the Maker will lead you to him.”

“I must go to the hall and begin rebuilding,” Teagan said, “I wish you luck, and may the Maker go with you.”

They left and went back to the inn to begin packing and setting towards their next destination.

The Quest for the Holy Grail, huh? Was Arl Eamon King Arthur? Were they the Knights of the Round Table now? Were they going to find the Fisher King and Avalon? Ah, was Brother Genitivi the Fisher King? Should she expect him to have a wounded leg? Was she Galahad now? No, wait, she wasn’t pure of heart, so maybe Alistair’s Galahad. Yeah, that makes a lot more sense. Or was Arl Eamon Merlin and Alistair King Arthur? Wait… Actually… Why did King Arthur and his knights seek out the Grail again? Was it because of an illness or just because they could? Her thoughts were getting all mixed up, and why was she trying to apply Arthurian Legend to their situation now?

“Bwargh!” she shouted as her face collided with a wall.

…Let’s just derail that train of thought here.

“Did… Did you just…?” Alistair began laughing.

“Owwww,” she replied holding a hand to her nose, “by doooose.”

“…How?” Sten frowned.

“I was lost in thought,” she replied, “I haven’t done that in a while… I forgot I wasn’t supposed to think deeply on my feet.”

“What were you thinking about?” Leliana asked.

“Where we should go next,” she lied, Arthurian legend wasn’t a thing here, “I’m thinking we should double back towards Lothering to head to Kinloch Hold and then after we deal with whatever crazy is going on there, we can head to Denerim. After that, we talk to Brother Genitivi and then we can figure out where to go from there.”

It should take another week or so to get to Kinloch Hold, weather permitting.

“What about the Brecilian Forest?” Alistair asked, “isn’t it on the way to Denerim?”

“There’re some things bothering me that I’d like to read up on, preferably before it drives me insane. Not only that, but I think we should prioritize finding a cure for Arl Eamon: a person’s body can only go so long without food,” she replied before turning to Elissa, “what are you planning on doing, Elegantly Enduring Elissa? Though, we won’t leave until tomorrow morning, since it’s kind of late in the day. Not only that, but I think we could still use a bit more of a rest before we begin heading towards crazy town number two.”

There were no IV drips here that could feed Eamon sustenance, so that was bad. Not only that, but muscle atrophy and bed sores might also become a problem… Unless the demon had also been keeping his body from deteriorating. Still, she’d like to err on the side of caution.

“I think I’ll be staying here, in Redcliffe, for the time being,” Elissa replied, “the two of you are already large enough targets, and Arl Howe will likely be after me as well if he found out that I'm still alive, not only that, but if Loghain tries anything else, we’ll be ready for him.”

“That’s a shame,” she replied with a grin, “isn’t that right Alis—”

“Yep, sorry, we have to go get ready to leave tomorrow,” Alistair said covering her mouth and dragging her off.

“Those two are basically like siblings,” Elissa said thoughtfully.

She missed Shianni… She missed being able to laugh like idiots about the same thing, she would definitely find Alistair and Zevran hilarious, though she’d probably take a while to understand that Alistair wasn’t a threat… She’d probably have to protect Alistair from her. Knowing Shianni, she’d probably attack him on sight after learning her lesson with Vaughan, and knowing Alistair, he wouldn’t lift much of a hand against her.

And if even if he did, she’d just break his arm for it.

_“Shianni needs you.”_

She needed her too.

“Why do I feel like you just thought something dangerous while looking at me?” Alistair asked.

“Because I did,” she replied trotting off with a hum, Diana at her heels, to go meet back up with the others.

She missed her Father, she missed Soris, she missed Valendrian… She missed everyone, and not a second went by that she didn’t regret that she wasn’t there with them… She’ll probably have to tell Shianni not to tell either her Father or Soris that she’s still alive… She didn’t want word to spread too much.

“I said I was sorry!” Alistair said jogging to catch up to her, “and you said it was water under the bridge!”

“It wasn’t because of that,” she huffed a laugh, “it was for a different reason.”

“Wh— Do I want to know?” Alistair asked.

“Nope,” she replied, “or rather, I don’t want to tell you, because it’s a secret.”

They went back to the tavern so that they could begin preparing to leave the next morning, and she was now refolding her laundry, quite pleased that she’d had the foresight to properly wash everything. She left her room and entered the main part of the tavern.

“Leli,” she hummed sitting across from her fellow red-head, “do you know any Ferelden legends?”

“I know one, told to me by my Mother a long time ago… It always chilled me to the bone,” Leliana replied, “maybe you have heard of Flemeth?”

“Flemeth?” she said thoughtfully, “Morrigan’s Mother called herself Flemeth.”

Oh… She’d forgotten what Flemeth had told her… Oops.

“Are… are you sure? Was she _the_ Flemeth of legend?” Leliana asked, “Flemeth the Devourer of Men? Flemeth, Mother of Witches? Flemeth Demon-Touched, Who Dwells in the Mists?”

“She didn’t introduce herself as such,” she shook her head, “but she’s the real deal. I know that much.”

“Oh? And how do you know that my Mother is truly _the_ Flemeth from legend?” Morrigan asked.

“From her words: Ser Jory chastised Daveth about him saying that she was a witch and that we shouldn’t have been talking to her, she’d said that he was a smart lad, but sadly irrelevant to the larger scheme of things… though it wasn’t her who decided,” she closed her eyes in thought, “and then she singled me out, which tells me that she knew both Daveth and Ser Jory would die, and that Ser Jory’s death may or may not have an impact on those of us who were in that situation and survived. If his death didn’t impact either me or Alistair, then he was irrelevant, if it did, then he wasn’t… Though that does remind me of something that I wasn’t supposed to forget but ended up doing so anyway… Oopsie.”

“…Was it something important?” Alistair sighed with a frown.

“Oopsie whoopsie,” she replied.

“…Kallian,” Alistair sighed heavily, “what was it?”

“That ‘this Blight’s threat is greater than they realize’,” she replied, “which tells me one of two things: either she knew that the Civil War was going to happen, or the Archdemon isn’t the only thing behind this Blight… Or I both, I suppose. Which is a scary thought… Actually, thinking about it, yeah it’s most likely both.”

“How is it,” Morrigan said, “that you could understand the insufferably vague words of my Mother enough to have dissected them to this point?”

“Who knows,” she shrugged, “anyway, you were there for that exchange too, Alistair, so don’t get all pouty with me.”

“But clearly, I didn’t understand what she was saying,” Alistair argued, “whereas you did.”

“Well, I have no idea what else could be behind the Blight,” she closed her eyes in thought, “so I guess that one will have to just have to reveal itself in time.”

“Well, that’s not comforting,” Alistair sighed.

“S’not supposed to be, but there’s no use worrying about it,” she replied, “I mean I’m certainly not going to worry about it, if it comes up I’ll probably say something along the lines of ‘oh, so that’s what she meant, neat.’… If a problem can be solved, it will be, if it can’t, there’s no use worrying about it, nya.”

“Can you stop saying stuff like this and then ruining it by sounding like a cat?” Alistair asked, “that’d be great, thanks.”

“I’ll think about it, however, all of that is simply just conjecture, I could be wrong,” she replied, “I could even be wrong about her knowing that Ser Jory and Daveth would die! I could even be wrong in saying that she’s really Flemeth from legend! Who’s to say I’m not?”

“…Now you really sound like my Mother,” Morrigan groaned.

“Ah-ha-ha,” she laughed, “I was hoping to, I thought it’d be fun act like her for a bit.”

***

The fact that Kallian had truly understood her Mother’s words enough to pull actual meaning from them, was truly quite the surprise. She’d known that Kallian had understood her Mother, but did not think that she had understood her to that extent. In fact, even _she_ didn’t know that her Mother had likely known that the other two recruits would perish.

Though the fact that Kallian had understood her Mother enough to even _act_ like her was most disturbing.

“So… let’s talk about your Mother,” Alistair said, “for a moment.”

“I’d rather talk about your Mother,” she replied.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Alistair replied, “and besides, isn’t your Mother a scary witch who lives in the middle of a forest? Much more interesting.”

“To you, perhaps,” she said, “you would find the moss growing upon a stone interesting.”

“You know what’s more interesting than that?” Alistair replied, “apostates. Mages outside of the Tower. That’s illegal, you know.”

“You did not read that in a book somewhere, did you?” she asked, “I hope the small letters did not strain you overmuch.”

“Or we could not talk about your Mother,” Alistair sighed, “that works for me.”

“Have you ever been hunted by the Chantry?” Kallian asked.

“My Mother has been hunted from time to time, yes,” she sighed, “by Templar fools like Alistair, which should tell you how successful they generally were… Flemeth made a bit of a game of it, in fact. The Templars would come again and she would look at me and smile and say that the fun was to begin once more.”

“Hey! And fun?” Alistair glared, “and you found it fun?”

“I found the game fun, I was too young to understand the truth behind what was happening,” she replied, “Flemeth would warn them once. ‘Twas a warning they inevitably failed to heed. And then the true game began. Often Flemeth would use me as bait: a little girl to scream and run and lure the Templars deeper into the Wilds and to their doom.”

“Oh! That sounds like something I used to do,” Kallian said clapping her hands together and everyone immediately turned to stare at her in shock, “ah, sorry to disappoint, but I will not be explaining that.”

“You can’t just say that and not explain yourself!” Alistair gawked at her.

“Sure I can,” Kallian shrugged, “because I just did.”

“My dear Warden,” Zevran purred sliding into the seat next to Kallian, “surely you can at least tell me, yes?”

“Nope. No way no how. Let’s just say… I’ve led an interesting life, and leave it there, hm?” Kallian smiled mischievously, “in any case, I’m of the opinion that if you’re going to chase someone like that, you deserve any bit of misfortune that befalls you.”

She was also quite curious about that statement. But she would likely speak no more of it… In that way, she was infuriatingly similar to her Mother.

Perhaps that was why she understood her Mother’s words: it was because they had similar personalities.

“Well, thankfully, the Wilds is a vast place. Once they found us, Flemeth would simply move us elsewhere and we would be lost within the forest once again,” she sighed, “I did not understand the danger we faced until I was much older. I had never heard of ‘apostates’ or ‘maleficarum’.”

“Eh… well, theirs was a job so…” Kallian said a finger to her chin.

“I do not begrudge them doing what they believe is necessary,” she sighed, “the Chantry sees any mage not leashed to the Circle of Magi as ‘apostates’. And apostates could become ‘maleficarum’: evil mages that resort to blood magic and become demon-enslaved abominations. It may even be true, as we’ve recently seen. Still, those of us who prefer freedom see no reason to submit.”

“I agree,” Kallian replied, “I mean, even if I’d lived under oppression I was still able to go wherever the fuck I wanted… Though the City Guard didn’t like Elves wandering out and about at night, granted, that didn’t apply to me because horaaay for skills! As long as I wasn’t caught there wasn’t any issue.”

“What a refreshing change,” she said glancing at Alistair, “as opposed to hearing about how mages should be locked up in towers.”

***

_“Oh! That sounds like something I used to do!”_

His Warden was quite the mysterious one, though, he supposed it might have something to do with how she once eliminated people. He still had absolutely no idea what would cause a woman like her to seek her own death, and it was bothering him. It also bothered him that she didn’t seem curious about his own reasons for wanting to die. Or perhaps she simply didn’t want to ask, so that he wouldn’t have the chance to ask her why she wanted to die.

“That is wily of you, Zevran,” Morrigan said.

“What is wily of me, o magical temptress?” he sighed.

“Getting in the good graces of the one who decides whether you live or die,” Morrigan answered and he threw a glance Kallian’s way, she was currently engaged in a philosophical conversation with Sten, “not to mention the one who can protect you against your former comrades.”

“And I am supposed to believe you are here,” he replied, “because of a… sense of patriotism, perhaps?”

“Ha! Hardly that,” Morrigan replied.

“We all have our reasons for doing what we do,” he replied, “mine happen to come with a set of lovely eyes.”

“Oh? Just her eyes?” Morrigan asked, “from the way you stare at her so intently, so hungrily… one would think you found more than just her eyes lovely.”

“Well, of course I think that her whole body is marvelous,” he replied, “and a treat to look at.”

“Have you even seen her body?” Morrigan asked, “in all of its entirety?”

“No, no I haven’t,” he sighed, “but it does leave absolutely everything up to the imagination.”

“Are you undressing her with your eyes?” Leliana asked narrowing her eyes at him.

“Among other things,” he grinned.

“Well, I certainly can’t control his eyes, nor can I control his thoughts,” Kallian said glancing in their direction, “he’s free to look and think what he wants.”

“Oh? Is that so?” he asked.

“How am I supposed to control your eyes and thoughts? Not that I would even if possible, that’s inhumane,” Kallian replied with a raised brow before standing up from her seat and stretching, “I think I shall go savor the last proper bath I’ll have in a long time as well as the last time I will be able to sleep in a proper bed… And no you cannot join me in either endeavor.”

She’d dashed his hopes as quickly as she’d raised them, though, he supposed it was to be expected, considering his own revelations on her.

He wondered if there might come a time where she asked him to leave, in order to keep him from being dragged into the path she walked. If so, well, she did give him freedom, so it really didn’t matter if she tried to send him away. It was her fault, honestly, for saying those words.

***

What she wouldn’t give to also have a copy of the _I Ching_ , but that ones significantly harder to remember. Or rather, she could never remember the lines associated with each hexagram. She wasn’t even sure she remembered all sixty-four hexagrams… Actually, she _knew_ she didn’t remember every hexagram. She did, however, remember the eight trigrams: Heaven, Earth, Thunder, Water, Mountain, Wind, Flame and Lake. But of course, she remembered those, those were the _Bagua_ , and her martial art translated to Eight Trigram Palm. It’d be embarrassing if she couldn’t at least remember _those_.

Then again, she didn’t have a need for divination.

_When the world knows beauty as beauty, ugliness arises_  
_When it knows good as good, evil arises_  
_Thus being and non-being produce each other_  
_Difficult and easy bring about each other_  
_Long and short reveal each other_  
_High and low support each other_  
_Music and voice harmonize each other_  
_Front and back follow each other_  
_Therefore the sages:_  
_Manage the work of detached actions_  
_Conduct the teaching of no words_  
_They work with myriad things but do not control_  
_They create but do not possess_  
_They act but do not presume_  
_They succeed but do not dwell on success_  
_It is because they do not dwell on success_  
_That it never goes away_

A sigh escaped her lips, and she penned a letter to… it didn’t matter really, all she needed was to get it out of her system. A self-counseling session, kind of. She folded it into a water bomb, blew into it to inflate it, tossed it between her hands for a bit before sending it on its way into the fire in her room before moving to begin her bath.

She truly didn’t care if he gazed at her hungrily or with desire, if he undressed her with his eyes, if he imagined having sex with her, or even if he dreamt of having sex with her. It wasn’t going to happen, so he was free to do what he wanted in the confines of his own mind.

He’ll never have her in real life, so it’s fine if he has her in his mind.

Or something.

She looked at the scars on her arms, the tattooed flowers that coiled around them. Even if they went back to Denerim, she had no place there, no home to return too. Her family might welcome her back with open arms, but that wouldn’t make it okay. None of them could ever just simply… go back to where they were. They’d all been irreversibly changed in so many different ways. She dropped her hand to scratch Diana under her chin, before deciding to get out of the bath.

She really wished she’d been left to rot in that dungeon, she supposed that that was why she shared a lot in common with Sten: they both unthinkingly slaughtered people, and wanted to cage themselves to keep them from doing so again.

Though, thinking about it, Zevran might be onto her, in which case, she’ll have to be more careful about sneaking away to cry and contemplate death.

What a pain.

If only she could truly kill off all of her emotions.

_People were shouting at her but she couldn’t hear them, couldn’t understand their words. She couldn’t even make out their faces, though that didn’t matter._

_She’d always hated mirror matches._

_Dodge, parry, block…_

_Why was she still defending herself? She’d thought this before, that perhaps she didn’t wish to die, but that was a dumb thought. Monsters who couldn’t control themselves needed to be put down, and she was no exception to the rule. No one should be an exception to that rule._

_What was it that Sten had said? A weak mind is a deadly foe._

_Staring up at the masked woman as she brought down her sword._

_It didn’t hurt, but it still wasn’t very pleasant._

Both she and Diana left her room with a sigh and noticed something interesting: Elissa was leaving Alistair’s room.

And she covered her mouth with her hand to hide what was most likely the biggest and shittiest grin on the planet that was definitely decorating her face as Elissa froze in place upon seeing her.

Actually, when did Elissa even come to their inn?

“What’s wr—” Alistair began before seeing her, “oh… oh no.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t laugh. I think that finding love in these trying times is a good thing,” she remarked as both Alistair and Elissa’s faces transitioned from pale to various different shades of red, as they both let out a sigh of relief, “of course whether I tell everyone or not is a completely different matter.”

“Plea—” Elissa began but cut herself off and the blood ran from her face again.

“Well now,” Zevran purred sidling up next to her, “isn’t this an interesting turn of events?”

“Oh, great,” Alistair sighed, “the two people we never wanted to find out, found out. Wonderful.”

“Don’t worry Amicably Avid Alistair, and Elegantly Enduring Elissa, Mother won’t give you grief over this,” she chuckled, “she cannot, however, speak for Zealously Zesty Zevran.”

“Oh! You thought of one for me,” Zevran said brightly, “Zealously Zesty, hm? I do like that.”

“Glad you approve,” she grinned.

“Can’t you two just… kiss already?” Alistair groaned.

“Why would we do that?” she asked innocently tilting her head to the side.

“…Good luck, Zevran,” Elissa said looking at him with pity, “you really have your work cut out for you.”

“Oh, I know,” Zevran sighed, “trust me, I know.”

“If it’s that much of a pain,” she hummed, “mayhaps you should give up?”

“When did I ever say that it was a pain, my dear Warden?” Zevran asked.

“JUST KISS ALREADY!” Alistair repeated.

“Whelp, guess we better get underway,” she said turning around to start descending down the stairs, “we’re wasting daylight, as they like to say!”

“Alright, even _I’m_ starting to feel bad for you,” she heard Alistair say, and Zevran just sighed.

She’s going to keep pretending that she’s not interested in him, for both of their sakes.

Or maybe she should sleep with him to help him get it out of his system.

Whoa, double entendre much?

The problem being that she didn’t want to risk it becoming more, didn’t want either of them getting irreversibly attached to each other.

Maybe she should send him away before it’s too late. Though he might refuse and reference the fact that she’d given him freedom, and then said the words ‘if you don’t want to go, then don’t. It’s as simple as that.’.

It might be impossible to get rid of him at this point.

Fuck.

Her thoughts were getting jumbled up.

Let’s stop thinking about this for now.

Teagan, Elissa, Isolde, Murdock, and Ser Perth decided to see them off, and quite honestly? Such a strange sight, being seen off by a group of important Humans, three being nobles, one being a village mayor, and a knight. A commoner, an _Elven_ commoner being seen off as if she were someone important was really really weird.

Why the fuck was she in a position of power again? Oh, right, because she fucked up. She really really really just wanted the world to make sense again, the past three months have made exactly zero of it.

“We’ll be back,” she said, “with news of some sort, I’m sure.”

“Maker watch over your path,” Isolde replied.

“May He watch over you as well,” she replied politely.

She needed an adult, though she was already an adult.

She needs an adultier adult, one who’s better at adulting.

***

They’d begun traveling to Kinloch Hold, and watching Kallian and Zevran interact with each other, made her think one thing and that was that Zevran had probably fallen in love with Kallian the same way he wanted to have sex with her: hard and fast. Though, she had her doubts on whether he was aware of it yet. She didn’t blame him, she doubted that anyone could survive long against Kallian’s charm, and wit, among other things. Kallian, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to decide whether she wanted to push him away or pull him in closer. Though she leaned more towards trying to push him away.

Kallian and Alistair’s relationship was that of two bickering siblings. Kallian being the smart, caring, responsible older sister who loves to give her brother grief, and Alistair being the younger brother who looks to his older sister for help and guidance. Kallian and Sten’s relationship seemed like two respectful colleagues who stood on the same ground and had deep philosophical conversations. They both seemed to have a lot in common, even if what that was was a secret even to each other. Kallian and Morrigan seemed like two best friends or two sisters. Kallian being the only one who could draw an actual girlish smile from the Witch of the Wilds while seeming to share a lot in common with her as well.

Her own relationship with Kallian was also that of best friends, as well as sisters.

“So tell me of this vision of yours, Leliana,” Zevran requested.

“I’m not certain I wish to discuss my vision with you,” she replied curtly, “you’ll make fun of me.”

“Nooooooo, why would I ever do such a thing?” Zevran asked.

“See? There you go,” she frowned, “no, I am not speaking to you of it.”

“Hmmm… Yes, I suppose the Maker would not want you to spread His words,” Zevran sighed, “very well, I’ll accept your reproach.”

“I… why do you even wish to know?” she asked.

“Why, to make fun of you, of course,” Zevran replied brightly.

“You are utterly impossible,” she glowered.

“On the contrary,” Zevran grinned, “I am often told how very easy I am, my dear.”

“Oh, go bother Kalli,” she sighed in frustration.

“I would love to, but…” Zevran sighed glancing in the woman’s direction where she was once again engaged in a philosophical debate with Sten, “I don’t think either of them would appreciate me just barging into their debate.”

“Have you considered joining the Qun?” Sten asked.

“No, I have not,” Kallian replied waving a sleeve around, “as much as I appreciate philosophy and all of its acumen, I don’t think I’d do well in the Qun. I’ve already said that I don’t like being told what to do, plus, from what you’ve said, they don’t appreciate playful tricksters.”

“True,” Sten replied.

“There’s your chance,” she pointed out.

“Hm? Chance? Chance f— ” Kallian cut herself off with a groan before sighing as she pulled her gloves on, “uggh… I’m never going to get used to this feeling… Darkspawn.”

And sure enough, they were attacked by Darkspawn.

“What does that feel like?” Zevran asked, “as a point of curiosity.”

“Barfy and weird,” Kallian answered, “I honestly don’t know how else to explain it… Alistair, you explain it!”

“Well, I don’t feel ‘barfy’ as Kalli put it,” Alistair replied, “but… it’s hard to describe.”

“So barfy and weird are the best descriptions you’re gonna get,” Kallian said, “unless we can find another Grey Warden to describe it to you.”

“And the chances of that are kind of slim,” Alistair added, “for the moment, anyway.”

***

It would probably take them another four days or so to reach Kinloch Hold, and part of her just wanted to waste two days traveling back to Redcliffe. She’d missed civilization so much. She’d always been a city girl. Camping? She didn’t go camping, she went glamping.

“So, Alistair,” she asked running her fingers through Diana’s short fur, “what were all the other Grey Wardens like?”

“I didn’t know them for very long, but I guess it was longer than you,” Alistair replied, “you never met them all, did you?”

“I only met you and Duncan,” she replied.

“They were quite a group. Actually, they felt like an extended family, since we were all cut off from our former lives,” Alistair replied thoughtfully, “we also laughed more than you’d think. There was this one time… well, you probably don’t want to hear stories about men you didn’t know.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked, “plus I think I laugh quite a lot.”

“You probably laugh more than anyone I’ve ever known,” Alistair replied, “there was one Grey Warden who came all the way from the Anderfels. What was his name? Gregor? Grigor? He was a burly man with the biggest, fuzziest beard you’ve ever seen. And the man could _drink_. He drank all the time but never got drunk. Finally, we all made a pool to see just how many pints it would take to put him under the table.”

“Sounds like you had a lot of fun,” she noted.

“Sometimes. We were kin, of a sort. All of us had gone through the Joining, so we knew,” Alistair sighed, “anyhow, it doesn’t have to be deadly serious all the time.”

“I haven’t been deadly serious since we were the targets of an assassination attempt,” she pointed out, “I’d almost forgotten what it was like to _not_ be so serious. I didn’t even realize just how badly it was wearing me out until I laughed at Zevran.”

“Ah! So that’s why you said you were sorry, but you needed that,” Zevran said brightly plopping down to sit next to her.

“Pretty much,” she sighed.

“Anyhow, we never did find out. He said he’d drink a pint for every half-pint that the rest of us drank,” Alistair recounted, “he was still going by the time the rest of us were passed out. I’m told that Duncan walked in later on and saw us all passed out from one end of the hall to the other, and Gregor still drinking. Duncan laughed and laughed until he nearly… until…”

“Sorry, this must still be hard for you,” she said reaching over to pat him on the head.

“Yes, I… I suppose so,” Alistair sighed, “I thought I was done with this, but…”

“Getting over death is never easy,” she replied, “never.”

“You seem to do fine,” Morrigan pointed out.

“We’ve talked about this, Morrigan, I also have more experience with it than he does,” she sighed, “experience with losing important people, and with helping people who’ve lost others. A healer's job doesn’t always end at fixing people up, or making their passing easier. It sometimes extends to helping the bereaved cope.”

“It… it just struck me that I have nothing to remember Duncan by. Nothing at all. There’s no body, not even a token of his that I could… take with me,” Alistair sighed, “that must… sound really stupid to you.”

“Of course it doesn’t,” she waved her sleeve around, “though, you do have your memories of him. Don’t forget those.”

“I… I know, I just would have liked something of his to take with me, that’s all… well, there’s no use in moaning about it, is there?” Alistair sighed sadly before taking out parchment, ink, and a quill.

She would write one too, but Zevran was sitting right there next to her. Then again, it’s not like she had anything to really write, she’d already gotten whatever off her chest before they left Redcliffe.

“Kalli, can you fold this for me?” Alistair asked handing her the parchment.

“Into what?” she asked.

“Anything is fine,” Alistair replied.

She folded it into a square first and then decided to go old school and do a crane, fold it in half, unfold, fold it in half, unfold, fold it diagonal, unfold, fold it diagonal, unfold.

She could feel Zevran watching her with interest, her fingers flying through the incredibly familiar steps, making sure that neither of them could read what Alistair wrote. She’d done it once, folded one thousand origami cranes, she knew she was going to die anyway, but it did help fill the time since hospital nurses prodded her practically all the time to make sure she was still alive.

Until she wasn’t.

After a week of travels from Redcliffe, they were on the shore of Lake Calenhad, and currently, she was wondering if they should rest at the inn here before heading into the Tower, though… She wasn’t expecting it to be that far away from the shore, in her past life, she could never handle boats very well. Which was fine, since she could swim like no other. This was a new life, a new body, so hopefully, she wouldn’t get boat-sick… She should still be prepared to jump ship and swim to the Tower.

“There’s a lot of weird happening in the Tower, I think we should stay here and recuperate for the rest of the day so we can tackle whatever’s going down refreshed,” she said closing her eyes in thought, and then pointing to the tavern at the bottom of the slope, “I’d also like to take the time to nag the tavern keeper for gossip, as well as ask around for Sten’s sword. Though there seems to a good lead right there, so can someone go get us set up at the inn while Sten and I get information out of that guy, for me please?”

“I’ll do it,” Alistair said before leaving.

“Wonderful,” she said before turning to the man sorting through what was most likely the bones of Sten’s brothers in arms.

“Back off!” the Man scowled, “I was here first!”

“Have you seen a sword lying around here, by any chance?” she asked.

“Why, you looking to buy one?” the Man asked in return.

“Me? No,” she replied before gesturing to Sten, “but he is.”

“Ah… is he? Heh. Well… that’s… see I’d like to sell you one, but I don’t… er… have any myself. I got part of a glove that the wolves didn’t chew too badly, though! I think it was a glove, anyway,” the Man panicked, “I know, don’t say it, I got cheated. I knew the guy who was here before me, he sold me this spot. Said he’d found giants and all kinds of crazy valuables. He didn’t mention that he’d taken everything but the bones and the dirt already. His name’s Faryn, squirrelly little bastard if you ask me. Which you didn’t, but I said it anyway.”

“I can’t… even fully comprehend the stupidity in that statement,” she said in awe.

“I have often thought that your existence is a fluke,” Sten nodded.

“I can’t even argue with that statement, even _I_ don’t really know how I ended up here,” she replied wryly before turning back to the man, “where is he now?”

“He was going to Orzammar, he said, I imagine he’s gotten there by now,” the Man answered, “if you find him, tell him I sent you! It’ll scare the piss out of him, heh.”

“Well, we’re going that way eventually,” she said as they began trekking to the inn, “we’ll find your sword, yet, Sten.”

“I look forward to it,” Sten replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Tao Te Ching Chapter Two_


	22. How the Cat Entered the Tower of Magi

Kallian and Sten reunited with the rest of them, pushing into the Spoiled Princess with a sigh. Just in time, he’d just finished getting all of them the last two rooms in the tavern. Sten had the same sword he’d had before, chances were he didn’t find his old one.

“No luck?” he decided to ask anyway and Kallian shook her head as she plopped into the seat across from him.

“Any news?” Kallian asked and it was his turn to shake his head.

“It’s probably demons, though,” he sighed, “we’re coming here to see the mages, right?”

“I can’t… why?” Kallian said after staring at him for a bit, “yes, we are here to see the mages.”

“Great,” he groaned, “they just love me.”

“Ahhhhhh… Got it, it’s because you were being grumped at by a mage in Ostagar,” Kallian said snapping her fingers in realization, “I was worried for a second there.”

“Do you ever wonder why the mages built their tower in Lake Calenhad?” he asked, “do they have an aversion to practicality or something?”

“I think… the tower was there first,” Kallian replied, “and the mages came second… Judging by the giant broken bridge.”

“I just know that the view from the top must be spectacular,” Leliana said, “though I wonder if we’re allowed to swim in the Lake.”

“Who cares if we’re allowed to or not,” Kallian grinned, “rules are made to be broken.”

“You really are a rule-breaker, aren’t you?” he replied.

“Naturally,” Kallian replied, “I especially like breaking stupid ones.”

“Uh… do you think that perhaps there are magical beasts swimming in the lake,” Zevran replied, “guarding their magic tower?”

“If there were, they’d have attacked Redcliffe,” Kallian quirked a brow, “or any of the other fishing villages in the area.”

“Hm, well, do you have experience fighting mages, my dear Warden?” Zevran asked.

“Zero,” Kallian replied, “I didn’t even have experience fighting _with_ mages until recently… Though I did summon a demon out of curiosity.”

“You…?!” Leliana stared at her in shock.

“Alistair the Templar, didn’t stop me!” Kallian argued flinging a sleeve in his direction, “he’s had more experience with this! And he just let me do it!”

“I didn’t think you would _actually_ summon it,” he argued back.

“I took responsibility and killed it,” Kallian pursed her lips, “so at least there’s that, and since my curiosity’s been sated, I won’t be doing it again. Especially considering what happened in Redcliffe.”

“Well, the good thing about mages, I find, is that they die much like any other,” Zevran replied, “you need only worry about what happens before that.”

“…Thanks for the advice, though I’m fairly certain the same could be said for anything,” Kallian replied finally after staring at Zevran with a look on her face, she’d opened and closed her mouth a few times as if trying to think of how to respond.

“I find it very fitting that they would build a prison for mages in the middle of a lake,” Morrigan mused, “and make it look like a giant phallus.”

“Well, towers are just giant cylinders, and I’m just going to leave that one there,” Kallian replied, “also I’ve already said it: tower came first, mages second. Probably.”

“That is the prison for your mages?” Sten asked referring to the Tower, “ours is not so grand.”

“If I weren’t tired, I would like to ask you about that,” Kallian replied, “but at current, that is not the case. So how many rooms did you get?”

“The last two,” he answered. 

“Ah, we’ll split up by gender then,” Kallian replied before sticking her hand out, “key please, I’m sleepy.”

“Here,” he replied handing the key over, “we have the last two doors at the end of the hall.”

“Neat, thanks, g’night guys,” Kallian replied doing her best to stifle a yawn before taking her leave with Diana at her heels.

“I wonder if she can unlock the door while holding the key through her sleeves,” he mused.

“She can,” Leliana answered, “I once watched her pick one of her lock-boxes open while holding her lock-picks through her sleeves.”

“Has anyone besides Morrigan seen her arms?” he asked, “or… any part of her?”

“Other than her face, neck, and hands?” Zevran answered with a sigh, “not really… She was wearing boots while wearing that dress.”

“And I will not be telling you anything,” Morrigan replied.

“She’s such a mystery,” he sighed.

“She does seem fond of keeping parts of her life secret, yes,” Zevran sighed.

***

She would have to be careful and make sure no one saw her arms. In truth she was kind of surprised that Zevran hadn’t seen them yet, considering how closely he’s been watching her. Actually, how she’d managed to keep them a secret from everyone, except Morrigan who only saw them because she helped Flemeth save her life, is anyone’s guess. At this point, she was honestly just curious to see how long she could hide it from them. She’d found it incredibly hilarious that they hadn’t discovered the bandages yet despite how long they’d been traveling together.

At current, she was just happy they found a super promising lead to finding Sten’s sword. Though, thinking about it… the Qun reminded her of that one book. What was it called again? The Giver? Yeah, that was it, The Giver. Also Confucianism. Which was kind of the opposite of Taoism. While vastly similar, Taoism rejected the rigid emphasis on rituals and the hierarchy and preferred spontaneity. The Qun seemed to be rather fond of said rituals and hierarchy. Even reading the excerpts of the _Tao Te Ching_ she’d written out made both sound familiar, but in the end, their practice was all she needed to reject it.

Plus, The Giver was also kind of a dystopia and she didn’t really want to live in that kind of society.

All she needed was to move according to the will of the universe, but currently, the universe was pissing her off. She had no illusions, she was probably still dancing to the tune of the music it played, and that also pissed her off. 

At current? Fuck harmonious existence.

_She felt his hand caressing her face, leaving a smear of blood on her cheek as the life faded from his body, her fingers desperately grasping at his hands._

_But he’s gone and she’s left with daggers in her hands and an opponent to valiantly lose against._

_She hated these ones the most, the ones where he died in her arms. The ones where she had nearly been fast enough to have saved him but only ended up being early enough to watch him cut down._

How she made it through the night without Leliana seeing her arms, was anyone’s guess. But now they were approaching the docks. Sten had decided that he would stay with Diana, probably because he wasn’t comfortable around magic, and the chances of the tower being full of demons were pretty high. Everyone else, however, would be venturing across the lake.

“What is the name they have for Mother and I? Apostates?” Morrigan asked as they walked towards the docks, “truly boggles the mind.”

Apostate… Come to think of it, that was a word in her past life too.

“Well, an apostate is someone who renounces a religious or political belief,” she explained, “so it fits. Kinda.”

“How do you know these things?” Alistair asked.

“Read it in a book,” she replied.

She wondered if Elroy was still alive.

“You! You’re not looking to get across to the Tower, are you?” the Templar said glowering at her, “because I have strict orders not to let _anyone_ pass!”

“Who are you?” she asked.

“I am the person appointed to stop all unauthorized access to the Circle Tower,” the Templar answered, “meaning you, because you’re unauthorized.”

“I need to speak with the First Enchanter,” she replied, both she and Alistair were still keeping their Grey Warden status on the down low.

“No! I’ve one job, and one job only,” the Templar glowered, “and by the Maker’s shiny gold cutlery, I will do it!”

“I don’t think the Maker has cutlery,” she replied dryly.

“Oh, and He’s told you that, has He?” the Templar replied, “well, you’re still not getting in this Tower.”

“We have some documents that compel the Circle to help us,” Alistair said taking over and holding up the documents.

She almost killed him.

Or at least shoved him into the lake, which would probably kill him, because of the armor.

“Yes? Oh, a Grey Warden seal, a-ha. So you’re claiming to be one of _those_ ,” the Templar replied, “you know, I have some documents, too. They say I’m the queen of Antiva. What do you think of that?”

“No, he is not the Queen of Antiva,” Zevran sighed after she’d gestured to the Templar and turned to look at him, “and queens are generally women.”

“Don’t question royalty!” the Templar glowered, “anyway, it was nice chatting with you. Now on your way. Right now. Go.”

“Your superior won’t like that you’re giving us trouble,” she said deciding to rely on her silver tongue.

“Oh, really? You think Greagoir would be upset with me for not letting you in?” the Templar replied, “wait… actually, he would. Good point.”

“Well, we should try our best to avoid that,” she replied, “shouldn’t we?”

“He’s the big guy around here… I bet he could deal with one or two Grey Wardens,” the Templar replied, “alleged Grey Wardens. Well, you want that I should take you there now?”

“Yes, please,” she nodded.

Boats are still terrible, but it wasn’t as bad as her past life. Which was good, because if it wasn’t good, she’d be swimming in that lake right about now. Maybe she should just swim back across to the lake when they were done with crazy town. Yeah, that sounded amazing, a lake wasn’t an ocean, but it was still a large body of water she could swim in. Though, she wondered if mages could freeze the water and path of frost across it. Like a Death Knight.

She was about to get out of the boat with the rest of them when a hand was extended to her. Only one person in their group had a hand that tan, but her eyes followed up the arm to the person who’d extended it to her anyway. Of course, it was Zevran, who else could it possibly be? No one else in their group had skin that tan. Not only that, but she didn’t think Alistair would help her out of the boat, that kind of thing wasn’t really on his mind. Probably. She reached out to take the offered hand.

And then she remembered how she dropped him, so she couldn’t keep herself from narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously.

“I won’t do anything you would,” Zevran chuckled, so she took his hand and he helped her out of the boat.

“Wow, what a gentleman,” she said.

“I did tell you that I am nothing,” Zevran grinned, “if not a gentleman, my dear Warden.”

“That’s true, you did,” she nodded before moving to enter the Tower.

She didn’t want to give Alistair the chance to tell them to ‘just kiss already’. Actually, why was she the only one he helped out of the boat? Leliana and Morrigan had to get out on their own.

They entered the Tower and there were Templars running around. Looked like an emergency, something pretty bad must have gone down. Demons and abom’s most likely.

Templars really do have standard-issue armor, huh? She wondered if Grey Wardens did too.

Honestly, she just wanted to wear a suit. Though, those kinds of suits weren’t a thing here, even if they definitely should be. People look so good in suits, especially good looking people, good looking people in suits were justice. Eye-candy of the most delicious variety.

“…and I want two men stationed within sight of the doors at all times,” a Templar, Greagoir, she thinks, said giving orders, “do not open the doors without my express consent. Is that clear?”

“Yes, ser,” the Templar he was speaking to replied.

“The doors are barred. Are they keeping people out?” Alistair asked, “or _in_?”

“Now we wait, and pray,” Greagoir sighed.

“You’re Greagoir, I presume?” she asked.

“Who are you? I explicitly told Carroll not to bring anyone across the lake,” Greagoir asked, “we are dealing with a very delicate situation. You must leave, for your own safety, this is no place for an Elven servant.”

She knows how she’s dressed.

“Ah, yes, my name is Kallian, and Alistair and I are actually Grey Wardens,” she replied, she could see no other way of getting through this exchange without playing the dumb Grey Warden special treatment card, “and unfortunately we seek the mages’ assistance in order to defeat the Blight.”

“I am weary of the Grey Wardens’ ceaseless need for men to fight the Darkspawn, but it is their right,” Greagoir sighed, “you’ll find no allies here. The Templars can spare no men, and the mages are… indisposed. I shall speak plainly: the Tower is no longer under our control. Abominations and demons stalk the Tower’s halls. The Circle is lost. The Tower has fallen.”

“How did this happen?” she asked.

“We don’t know… We saw only demons, hunting Templars and mages alike,” Greagoir answered, “I realized we could not defeat them and told my men to flee.”

“What are you thinking?” Alistair asked after noticing her biting the nail of her thumb.

She’d been thinking about Jowan, and what he’d mentioned: Loghain promised to talk to the Circle on his behalf. Which could only mean one thing: someone high up in the Circle was in league with him.

“That Loghain put some stupid idea into a mages head and then this happened after said stupid idea didn’t pan out right,” she replied honestly, “though, honestly, that’s stretching… Is there anything we can do?”

“I have sent word to Denerim,” Greagoir replied, “and the Right of Annulment.”

“The Right of Annulment?” she asked.

“The Right of Annulment gives Templars the authority to neutralize the mage Circle,” Greagoir replied and she felt her blood turn to ice, “completely.”

That’s basically a Purge.

And also inhumane.

“The mages are probably already dead,” Alistair sighed, “any abominations remaining in there must be dealt with no matter what.”

“This situation is dire, there is no alternative— everything in the Tower must be destroyed so it can be made safe again,” Greagoir replied.

“Mages aren’t defenseless,” she argued, “there must be some still alive.”

“If any are still alive, the Maker Himself has shielded them,” Greagoir replied, “no one could have survived those monstrous creatures. It is too painful to hope for survivors and find… nothing.”

“I’ll go look for them,” she replied.

“I assure you, an abomination is a force to be reckoned with,” Greagoir replied, “and you will face more than one.”

“I _have_ to try,” she replied firmly, “it’d be an insult to the person I am to not.”

“A word of caution… once you cross that threshold, there is no turning back. The great doors must remain barred. I will open them for no one until I have proof that it is safe,” Greagoir sighed, “I will only believe it is over if the First Enchanter stands before me and tells me it is so. If Irving has fallen… then the Circle is lost and must be destroyed. May the Maker watch over you.”

The doors were opened for them, and then closed, she could hear them reapply the bar that had held them shut. There were a lot of bodies just… laying there. The smell was overpowering, so overpowering that she was getting a headache. Bodies do things when they die. But this was neither the time nor place for her to make comments on it. She doubted anyone would want to hear about what happens when a person dies. Zevran probably knew though.

“As I recall from my time as a Templar,” Alistair mused, “locking the door and throwing away the key was ‘Plan B’.”

“This is too cruel,” Leliana said looking around with a hand to her mouth, “I would not subject even an animal to such a terrible fate.”

“So the mages are all locked within?” Morrigan sighed, “a fitting end for those who gave up their freedom.”

“Or wanted a better education than just setting their own homes on fire,” she replied, “if I were a mage I would love to study all the crazy tricks magic could accomplish… Without worrying about setting fire to at least three houses and two trees.”

“Oddly specific,” Morrigan pointed out, “and I suppose you did mention that you would send your child to the Circle so that they could get the education that you could not provide, and then move in next door to be an overbearing mother… I wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed that you said it, or that I could see you doing that.”

“Both, maybe?” she shrugged.

“Have you ever heard the saying ‘let sleeping abominations lie’?” Zevran asked, “now would be the time to consider it.”

“A bit late, considering they already closed the door behind us,” she mused, “not only that but when have I ever turned my back on people in need?”

“Never,” Alistair answered, “you even knocked out the farmers who attacked us in Lothering rather than just killing them.”

“They attacked out of desperation and a desire to feed their families,” she shrugged, “I couldn’t fault them for that.”

They pushed through a set of doors and she saw a demon, a fiery demon being vanquished by a familiar face: Wynne.

She saw another familiar-ish face: Elroy. He’d certainly grown up in the five years since she last saw him.

“It’s you! No… come no further,” Wynne glowered, “Grey Warden or no, I will strike you down where you stand!”

“Wynne?” she replied, “I’m not here to fight… you anyway.”

“I will accept that, for now,” Wynne sighed.

“Whoa, the world really must be ending, for the Alienage’s domestic goddess, to be out of Denerim,” Elroy said, “I mean, Wynne had mentioned that you were made into a Grey Warden and had probably died at Ostagar, but I figured she’d either hit her head too hard or was going se— Ow!”

She cut his sentence off with her fist knowing he was going to call Wynne senile.

“You two… know each other?” Zevran asked, and she couldn’t help but detect a smidgen of irritation in that question.

Was he… jealous? That wasn’t good, especially since she probably couldn’t get rid of him at this point. She had no idea what to do about this, what should she do? Was she in a similar situation in her past life? She couldn’t remember. A while ago, she’d made the realization that she couldn’t remember most of her past life. Something like dealing with jealousy wasn’t something she was going to remember. She just remembered things she’d learned, not things she saw, or felt, or anything of that nature.

Shianni or Soris! Help! But preferably Shianni because she handles these situations better!

Or maybe she’s overthinking it. Yeah, that was far more likely.

She needs to get her ego checked, or gotten rid of. Along with her special treatment, and position of power. Those can go away too.

“Are you talking about Wynne? Because we met at Ostagar,” she replied quirking a brow at him, “or are you talking about Elroy? Because everyone comes from somewhere before they end up at a Circle of Magi. In any case, we’re here seeking aid from the mages.”

She’d decided that her best course of action was to return to the matter at hand.

“And you were told that the Circle was in no shape to help you, I suppose,” Wynne sighed, “so why did the Templars let you in? Do they plan to attack the tower now?”

“The Right of Annulment hasn’t arrived yet,” she replied.

“They sent for it, then. I feared they might have, what else could they do? So Greagoir things the Circle is beyond hope, he probably assumes we are all dead,” Wynne sighed, “they abandoned us to our fate, but even trapped as we are, we have survived. If they invoke the Right, however, we will not be able to stand against them.”

“What… exactly happened here?” she asked.

“Let it suffice to say that we had something of a revolt on our hands, led by a mage named Uldred,” Wynne replied, “when he returned from Ostagar, he tried to take over the Circle. As you can see, it didn’t work out as he had planned. I don’t know what became of Uldred, but I am certain all this is his doing. I will not lose the Circle to one man’s pride and stupidity.”

“Wait… what, how, and why?” she asked holding up a hand.

“It all started when I returned from Ostagar, as you know, I was at that ill-fated battle, and I survived, barely,” Wynne sighed, “I was in no state to travel, so I stayed at Ostagar to recuperate and help the wounded. Uldred, on the other hand, left for the tower almost immediately. When I finally returned here I found that Uldred had all but convinced the Circle to join Loghain, the man who nearly destroyed us all! I cannot fault the Circle though, Uldred had a persuasive argument, and how could they have known what happened in Ostagar?”

Charismatic people are the worst, it was they who people tended to flock to. People who used their silver tongues and pretty words to get what they wanted. She knew because she was the same, she chose her words carefully, and she would never abuse the trust people had placed within her for personal gain. That was never her modus operandi.

“Apparently, it wasn’t stretching,” Alistair said, “how did you know?”

“Wait… what do you mean ‘how did you know?’” Elroy asked.

“Kalli said the words, and I quote: ‘that Loghain put some stupid idea into a mages head and then this happened after said stupid idea didn’t pan out right’,” Alistair explained, “about, oh, I don’t know, ten minutes ago?”

“I also said it was a stretch, but I’d based it on what we heard from Jowan: I figured he might have someone he was in cahoots within the Circle, and since he was willing to go the route of poisoning Arl Eamon to get his way, it made sense. Not only that but if Loghain were going to mediate, between Jowan and the rest of the Circle, it would have to be someone with a lot of clout. Now if we take into account that a lot of people likely didn’t agree with Loghain’s decision at Ostagar, we arrive at the conclusion that it had to be someone who knew that that was going to be what happened. Whether or not that person was already of influence or not is a different matter, but given the situation, a failed grab for power made the most sense,” she explained, “I made a guess based on currently available information. Just like everything else I’ve guessed. I told you: I’m fairly confident in my critical thinking abilities.”

“You always did seem to have your nose buried in a book or five,” Elroy sighed, “well when you weren’t setting up pranks, napping on a roof, or stuck in either a crate or barrel.”

“That was my suspicion, as well. Uldred always wanted power, perhaps Loghain promised Uldred the position of First Enchanter, once they had dealt with the Blight,” Wynne sighed, “well, I told the First Enchanter, Irving, what Loghain did on the battlefield. I revealed him for the traitorous bastard he is. Irving said he would take care of it. He called a meeting to confront Uldred, but something must have gone wrong. I emerged from my quarters when I heard the screams. They were coming from the meeting room, and it wasn’t long before I saw the first abomination, running down a mage. It deteriorated quickly then.”

“What happened to Irving?” she asked, “Greagoir will only accept the Tower is safe if the First Enchanter stands before him and says it is so.”

“I do not know, I found Petra first, and we were trying to fight our way to the meeting room, to help, but we came across Irving. He was fighting a terrifying abomination and told me to get as many as I could to safety, I had to obey. That was… the last time I saw Irving,” Wynne replied, “our path is laid out before us. We must save Irving.”

“Will the children be okay?” she asked.

“Petra and Kinnon will watch them, and I’m sure Elroy will play his part as well,” Wynne replied, “if we slay all the fiends we encounter on our way, none will get by to threaten the children.”

“We could also leave two of our number down here as well,” she replied closing her eyes in thought, “I’d like to bring Alistair the Templar for obvious reasons a—”

“And me!” Zevran said brightly.

“Why you?” she asked.

“Well, why not me?” Zevran asked in return.

“Fine,” she sighed, it’d be annoying and a waste of time and energy to argue with him.

She was actually going to bring Morrigan because mages, but she supposed Zevran had experience fighting them too.

“Since when did you know how to fight, anyway?” Elroy asked her.

“Did you not start your training when you were four?” Zevran asked with a raised brow.

“I did, but as per my Father’s request I kept it secret,” she replied smugly, “Elroy hasn’t lived in the Alienage since he was ten at that point I’d spent most of my time sewing, knitting, and mixing potions and medicines.”

She was three years older than him, so she was thirteen when he left. She didn’t start leading men through back alleys until she was fourteen, and she and Shianni had started helping with fires when they were almost fifteen. He didn’t know anything she didn’t want them to know.

“Hence why I called her the Alienage’s domestic goddess,” Elroy replied.

“Anyway, we can travel down memory lane later,” she sighed, “we’ve another Tower to retake.”

“Petra, Kinnon… look after the others,” Wynne nodded, “I will be back soon.”

“Wynne, are you sure you’re alright?” Petra, she guessed, asked, “you were so badly hurt earlier. Maybe I should come along.”

“The others need your protection more. I will be alright,” Wynne replied, “stay here with them… keep them safe and calm.”

“Have faith,” she replied, “we’ll be alright.”

“Your confidence is refreshing, though you should make sure it does not blind you to your weaknesses,” Wynne replied, “if you are ready, let us go end this.”

“Okay,” she nodded, “I guess Morrigan and Leliana will stay here then.”

They walked towards the barrier, it was pretty. Like light reflecting off of water and onto a ceiling or something, and she wanted to touch it.

She never claimed to be the sharpest tool in the shed, just not the dullest.

“Here we are,” Wynne said, “I am somewhat amazed at myself for having kept it in place this long.”

“You did what you had to do, Wynne,” she replied.

“It made me very weary at times, but I had to stay strong, to keep us safe,” Wynne replied and she felt guilty for spending last night on the side of the lake as well as the two days they rested at Redcliffe, “be prepared for anything. I do not know what manner of beasts lurk beyond this barrier.”

“Do not fear, my good lady, Kallian is very good at fending off attackers,” Zevran replied, “speaking from experience here.”

“I do alright, I guess,” she replied.

“Alright is putting it lightly,” Alistair pointed out, “considering what you’ve done so far.”

“I do alright, I guess,” she repeated.

“You saw through and immediately countered Loghain,” Alistair replied flatly, “and let’s not forget Redcliffe.”

“She did?” Wynne asked in surprise.

“She figured out that Loghain had no plans to aid the King once we got into the Tower,” Alistair explained, “she made sure the beacon was lit so that people knew something was wrong. Basically, the only reason everyone knows that Loghain was a traitorous bastard is because of Kalli.”

“I.do.alright.I.guess,” she repeated again, “we've got a Tower to retake.”

“Alright,” Wynne replied, “be on your guard…”

She was a little sad to see the barrier fade, it was so pretty and shimmery.

“Could I… speak with you for a moment?” Petra asked her.

“Sure,” she nodded moving to the side for a bit of privacy.

“Look after her, will you?” Petra asked.

“You sound a little worried,” she pointed out.

“I don’t know if she’s up to this… Especially not after…” Petra sighed, “I just worry.”

“Not after what?” she asked.

She highly doubted she was referring to Ostagar, that was months ago.

“I was on my way down to the library when I heard screaming, and a demon came around the corner. Its eyes were afire with evil… I was certain it was my death come upon me,” Petra recounted, “I think I screamed; I was so afraid. And then Wynne was there, in front of me, shielding me. It was light and fire, blood and chaos… When it was over, the demon was dead but Wynne wasn’t moving either. I was so afraid she was… gone.”

“I see, what happened next?” she asked.

“As I moved to help her, she stirred and coughed,” Petra replied, “I don’t know what I would have done if she had died… for me.”

“She might have just had the wind knocked out of her,” she replied, “but I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“Just… look after her for me, alright?” Petra asked, “she might be completely fine, but then again, maybe she didn’t come away from that totally unharmed.”

“I’m sure she’ll recover,” she replied.

Sometimes injuries could take a while to show up. Whiplash, in particular, could take a few days before it showed up.

“Thank you,” Petra replied, “and thank you again for helping us.”

“I hate unnecessary violence and bloodshed,” she replied snapping her fingers into a thumbs up, “not only that, but I know what oppression feels like. It sucks.”

Living under oppression, under constant scrutiny, worrying about being purged just for breathing wrong… It was a shitty way to live, for sure.

With that, she moved to rejoin the others.

***

That boy, Elroy, had feelings for his Warden, and for some reason, that annoyed him. He wasn’t sure why, but it did, and he couldn’t resist the desire to give him a smug grin as they left to retake the Tower. He may know what his Warden was like before, but he knew what she was like now.

Though, it seems that she had always been a master at keeping secrets, considering that the boy didn’t know she’d begun her training at age four. At this point, he may know more about her than Elroy did.

“So what can you tell me about Uldred?” Kallian asked.

“Uldred… it’s uncharitable of me to speak this way, but I never liked him, he was a squirrelly, twitchy sort of person,” Wynne explained, “he never mentored the apprentices, never taught. He didn’t seem to care much for the Circle, only his own advancement.”

“Sounds like an ass,” Kallian commented.

“I’m sure Uldred has some redeeming qualities,” Wynne sighed, “he probably has a perfectly good reason for not displaying them.”

“Any clue what we’ll face?” Kallian asked.

“You have seen the demons, haven’t you? We will doubtless see more of those,” Wynne replied, “but I fear the abominations more, they are no longer Human and are driven only by their lust for destruction.”

They fought through an abomination, and Kallian leapt back in surprise as it exploded upon death.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Kallian exclaimed in surprise, “why didn’t anyone tell me they exploded? I am not okay with that.”

“You’re… not okay with killing them because they explode?” Alistair asked.

“Uh… yeah,” Kallian replied, “who would be okay with something blowing up in their face, Ser I-Have-A-Shield?”

“You have a point,” Alistair replied after a bit of thought.

“Exactly,” Kallian nodded.

They continued through the library, Kallian making sure to swiftly retreat behind Alistair after every abomination they killed. Likely to avoid having one blow up in her face again. He was perfectly fine with simply dodging away from the explosion.

“Perhaps you should use a bow,” Alistair commented.

“I’m really bad with bows,” Kallian replied, “almost— no actually, scratch the almost. I _am_ embarrassingly bad with bows.”

“So, tell me, my dear Warden,” he asked, “how close were you and that boy?”

“Elroy?” Kallian quirked a brow at him, “not very. I was always busy with a lot of different things, and my cousins were always a bit of a handful… Do you have a problem with him?”

He wasn’t sure what to make of that question, but it also annoyed him that she would be willing to stand up for him. He didn’t know why it annoyed him, but it did. It was part of the reason he’d insisted on coming along with them through the Tower: he was free to be around her whenever he wanted, whereas that boy was not.

“So, Zevran, the stories we hear down here about the Crows,” Alistair said interrupting their conversation, “they’re not true, are they? They all sound a little far-fetched.”

“I cannot say. What have you heard?” he asked for clarification, “in Antiva, we hear that Ferelden men cannot sleep without a dog in their bed. Is that true.”

“A dog? No, of course not,” Alistair replied, “we value our dogs, it’s part of our history.”

They’d both apparently decided to ignore the fact that Kallian frequently used her dog as a pillow. Thankfully, the woman bathed both herself and her dog every chance she got, so the smell was never an issue.

“Oh, perhaps it was simply a reference to your Ferelden women, then?” he asked.

“Well, now that you mention it…” Alistair laughed.

“But those stories you heard?” he grinned, “all true.”

“Really? Even the ones that talk about how you all…” Alistair trailed off, “you know… get paid to…”

“Especially those ones,” he replied with a smirk.

“Wow,” Alistair replied, “I am totally in the wrong order.”

“How did you get in league with an Antivan Crow?” Wynne asked Kallian as they began ascending to the next floor.

“Loghain _really_ wanted us dead. Like really _really_ wanted us dead,” Kallian answered, “though how he figured we survived I have no idea. Even _I_ didn’t find out we survived until after he was hired.”

“I thought she was dead too,” Alistair nodded.

“Oh? Loghain seemed rather confident that you had survived,” he replied thoughtfully, “incredibly so, actually. To the point of telling me to make sure you, in particular, were killed.”

“Apparently he has more faith in me than I do,” Kallian mused, “not quite sure how I feel about that… flattered, I suppose?”

***

She was thankful that Kallian had survived, she hadn’t been able to get her out of her head. Not only that but the fact that two Grey Wardens had survived meant there was still hope for Ferelden. Though, for Loghain to want them dead so much he hired an assassin angered her greatly. She wondered as to what made Kallian decide to bring him along.

They got to the second floor and already all of them noticed something was off.

“Be wary,” Zevran cautioned, “I do not think we are alone here.”

“You feel that?” Alistair asked, “it’s actually colder up here.”

“Owain’s room is near here,” she said worriedly, “I hope he’s alright.”

“There’s someone over there,” Kallian said gesturing into a direction.

“That’s… the stockroom,” she replied.

“Please, refrain from going into the stockroom,” Owain said, “it is a mess and I have not been able to get it into a state fit to be seen.”

“What are you doing here?” Kallian asked.

“I was trying to tidy up,” Owain replied, “but there was little I could do.”

“Tidy up?” Kallian asked in alarm, “aren’t you afraid of the abominations?”

“Of course, I am defenseless and if I ran into one, I would surely perish,” Owain replied, “I tried to leave when things got quiet. That was when I encountered the barrier. Finding no other way out, I returned to work.”

“Owain, you should have said something!” she replied, “I would have opened the door for you.”

“The stockroom is familiar,” Owain replied, “I prefer to be here.”

“Have you come across any abominations?” Kallian asked.

“No, I suppose I should count myself lucky,” Owain replied, “I would prefer not to die. I would prefer it if the Tower returned to the way it was. Perhaps Niall will succeed and save us all.”

“Succeed? At what?” Kallian asked.

“I do not know, but he came here with several others,” Owain replied, “and took the Litany of Adralla.”

“But that protects from mind domination!” she exclaimed in alarm, “is blood magic at work here?”

“I do not know,” Owain replied.

“Niall was in the meeting, he would know,” she sighed, “blood magic… I was afraid of this.”

“Whoa, wait I just remembered something important, okay, yeah, Jowan needed someone to mediate between him and the rest of the Circle because he was a blood mage,” Kallian replied, “so… the person who handled Jowan and his relations to the rest of the Circle would have needed to be comfortable with blood magic.”

“Kallian,” Alistair sighed, “how do you _always_ forget the important parts?”

“Hey!” Kallian replied, “you didn’t remind me either!”

“I thought you remembered _why_ Jowan needed someone to talk to the Circle on his behalf,” Alistair sighed again, “I didn’t think you would have forgotten _that_ in your grand display of brilliance.”

“Hey, hey, hey! I never claimed to be the smartest person,” Kallian replied pursing her lips, “just not the dumbest.”

“You saw through Loghain and then you forgot that Jowan was a blood mage!” Alistair replied, “how do you just forget something like that?”

“We should find Niall,” she sighed to stop the two from continued bickering, “the Litany will give us a fighting chance against any blood mages we encounter.”

“I wish you luck,” Owain replied, “perhaps this will be over soon and things will return to the way they were.”


	23. How the Cat Entered a Dream She Did Not Want to Leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deviated a bit from the in game Fade part... Because I can.

She heard talking in the distance and lightened her steps, and gestured for the others to keep quiet. She closed her eyes as she pressed her back to the doorway to focus her hearing and listen.

“What are we doing?” Someone asked, “have you thought about it?”

“We’re making sure no one disrupts Uldred’s plan,” Someone else replied, “I thought that was quite clear.”

“But he’s not Uldred anymore,” the First Person said back, “I never wanted it to go this far.”

So then Uldred was an abomination, wonderful.

“Neither did I,” Another Someone replied, “but this is what we’re faced with and—”

“Quiet! Both of you!” the Second Person hissed, “I think I heard something. Keep your eyes open.”

She opened her eyes to stare accusingly at Alistair, the most likely suspect considering his armor, and lack of rogue-ness.

Three mages, which meant three ranged, though, they likely didn’t learn anything about close-quarters-combat. She and Zevran could probably take out two and make taking out the third easy. Stealth kills in this situation was best, her eyes met Zevran’s and they both nodded entering stealth to go take them out.

Her sword cleaved through one of their necks, and she cringed as Zevran snapped one of the others necks.

It reminded her of her first two kills.

“Please, please don’t kill me!” the Third Mage begged.

“I’m sure the people you killed didn’t want to die either,” she pointed out.

“I know I have no right to ask for mercy, but I didn’t mean for this death and destruction. We were just trying to free ourselves,” the Woman replied, “Uldred told us that the Circle would support Loghain and Loghain would help us be free of the Chantry… You don’t know what it was like. The Templars were watching, always watching…”

“I don’t, huh?” she replied sighing as she closed her eyes to switch back, “I am an Elf who grew up in an Alienage. The City Guard was always watching, always. Too much of a misstep and we might even be purged, which is not so different than the Right of Annulment. So, I know _exactly_ what it’s like… I don’t blame you for fighting back, I suppose.”

“The magic was a means to an end,” the Woman replied, “it gave us… it gave me the power to fight for what I believed.”

“Fighting for what you believe is commendable,” Wynne stated, “but the ends do not always justify the means.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you, Wynne? Change rarely comes peacefully,” the Woman replied, “Andraste waged war on the Imperium, she didn’t write them a strongly worded letter. She reshaped civilization, freed the slaves, and gave us the Chantry. But people died for it. We thought someone always has to take the first step, force a change, no matter the cost.”

There was that phrase she hated again, or at least a variant of it: _no matter the cost_.

“Nothing is worth what you have done to this place,” Wynne glared.

“And now Uldred’s gone mad, and we are scattered,” the Woman replied, “doomed to die at the hands of those who seek to right our wrongs.”

“As I’ve said: I can’t fault you for fighting back, we have too its never gone well for us but we did anyway,” she sighed, “so? There’s a reason you’re begging for your life, right?”

“I… I would like a chance to atone for what I’ve done,” the Woman answered, “please if you spare me I… I could escape and seek penance at the Chantry.”

“You know, they’ll never take you. They’re very picky about who they let in,” Alistair replied, “harlots, murderers, yes. Maleficarum, oh no…”

“I just want my life,” the Woman begged, “please…”

“Fight the Darkspawn,” she replied.

“Fight the Darkspawn?” the Woman replied in shock, “but I’m a…”

“Just don’t use blood magic, or I can always withdraw the offer,” she replied before snapping her fingers to jab her thumb in Alistair’s direction, “it’d keep Alistair from getting pouty with me as I explain somethings to him.”

“N—no I’ll… I’ll help you. I’ll… I’ll do anything. I don’t want to die,” the Woman replied.

“This is unwise, you cannot trust her,” Wynne cautioned.

“I have lived through riot after riot after riot after riot. Felt flames on my skin, heard screams for help, smelled charred flesh as people burned alive in their own homes,” she replied, “you know how I always say I hate unnecessary violence and bloodshed? It’s because the first people to respond to that kind of shit are people like me: healers and apothecaries. We see the absolute worst it gets. She has never had to deal with any of that, she’s never had to watch a family burn alive in their own house. She doesn’t know what it’s like to see things _fail_ on that scale. Now she does, now she is wiser. Hate begets hate, suffering begets suffering. One should never answer one with the same, all it does is perpetuate an unhealthy cycle.”

“Huh, you didn’t ruin your own profound sayings by sounding like a cat,” Alistair replied in shock, “that’s a switch.”

“Meoooow,” she replied lifting both hands to clench them to look like cat’s paws.

“I suppose it is not my place to question your motives,” Wynne sighed.

“What should I do now?” the Woman asked, “am I to follow you?”

“Go join the apprentices downstairs,” she replied jabbing a thumb in the direction of the stairs, “don’t tell them what you are.”

“Yes, I will pledge my life to your cause,” the Woman nodded, “thank you for sparing me…”

“You really do believe in second chances, don’t you?” Alistair remarked, “will you be giving Loghain a second chance too? Because if you are we aren’t friends anymore, just so you know.”

“No, I will not,” she sighed, “there are always limits, and he has long since crossed that threshold.”

“Good,” Alistair declared, “because I’m never forgiving you if you do.”

“Yes, yes,” she replied.

“I’m being serious here!” Alistair said.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she replied.

But to be honest? Why were there so many blood mages? Aren’t the Templars supposed to be watching them? Or was Uldred keeping them secret…?

They found more blood mages, looting for things to sell in case they ever made it out of the Tower, and she wasn’t sure what they were planning. Luckily, she didn’t have the chance to deal with them, since an abomination found them. And then there were more zombies. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised, but here we were. Wait… was there someone hiding in this wardrobe too?

“It’s alright,” she sighed, “you can come out now.”

“Are the demons gone? Is it safe?” the Wardrobe asked fearfully, “I don’t want to d—die.”

“We’ve dealt with them,” she replied.

“If… if you’re sure it’s safe, I could peek outside,” the Wardrobe replied before the doors opened to let out a mage, “ooh. Ow… Ah, yes.”

“Are you hurt?” she asked.

“I have a crick in my back and my bum’s gone numb,” the Man replied, “never thought I’d be rescued from demons by an Elven servant.”

“…You’ll survive,” she replied as he looked around, “and I never thought I’d be rescuing a mage.”

“You’re also not a servant,” Alistair pointed out, “you’re a Warden, remember?”

“Hard to forget,” she replied.

“Oh, holy Maker… look at this… those demons didn’t know what hit them, did they?” Godwin replied, “Godwin, mage of the Circle of Ferelden, at your service.”

“Pleased to meet you, my name is Kallian,” she inclined her head politely, “how did you end up in that wardrobe?”

“There were demons everywhere, blocking my exit,” Godwin explained, “so I decided that the best thing to do in that situation was to hide, and be very very quiet… I just really want to be somewhere safe. I think I might stay here for now. Maybe go back in my closet for a little while.”

“We’ve killed most of the demons,” she replied, “you could escape.”

“And go where? The Templars have locked the door,” Godwin replied, “I’m just going to stay here and see what happens.”

“Well, you could go downstairs,” she stated, “where the survivors are gathered, but very well, take care.”

“Thank you again, for saving me,” Godwin replied before re-entering his wardrobe, “may we meet again, in happier, less life-threatening times.”

They continued forwards, and eventually found Irving’s office, it was full of books, books, and more books. She wondered if he had any books on Grey Wardens and the Blight, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted Alistair to know if that she’d begun her research on it yet. She needed to figure out whether she wanted to let him in on it, or keep it to herself, and she’d only be able to decide that when she found something concrete.

“This is Irving’s office,” Wynne said, “I half-expected to find him here, but I suppose that’s too much to hope for.”

“You know,” Zevran said, “I’d be willing to bet there’s a tome or two in here that would fetch a lovely price on the market.”

“Zevran, no,” she frowned secretly swiping a black grimoire that might be one of Flemeth’s, she’d seen a similar grimoire in her hut. Perhaps Morrigan could use it. She saw Zevran smirking at her and playfully stuck her tongue out at him.

“You think he’s read all those?” Alistair asked.

“Maybe?” she replied, “some people don’t take long to finish a book, so there’s a chance that he did.”

“How long does it take you to finish a book?” Alistair asked.

“Depends on the book, if it’s something I’m interested in, not very,” she replied, “but if it’s not? I can take years to get through a single page… Because I fall asleep after reading a sentence.”

“…What kind of books put you to sleep that quickly?” Alistair asked.

“Economics, war history, geography,” she replied before trying to stifle a yawn, “whoa just thinking about it is making me sleepy.”

“Kalli, focus,” Alistair said shaking her shoulders a bit.

“Aye aye captain,” she replied standing up a little straighter as she gave him a salute.

They began ascending the stairs to the next floor, and it got colder. Come to think of it, weren't spirits a heat-sink in her old world?

“Do you get the feeling that things are just getting worse as we go up?” Alistair asked.

“It’s not true that mages can turn someone into a toad, is it?” Zevran asked, “that’s just a myth, yes?”

“How should I know?” she replied, “though why does it always have to be a toad, or a frog? Wynne! Can they?”

“Who’s to say we can’t?” Wynne replied.

They probably couldn’t, otherwise everyone in their group with the exception of her and Sten would have spent some amount of time as an amphibian.

She pressed her ear to the door to the next floor and closed her eyes. Hearing nothing, she opened it carefully. She’d also felt that things got worse the higher they went, so proceeding with caution was ideal.

“Everyone’s gone,” Wynne sighed sadly, “or dead… I fear the worst.”

More demons, and abominations.

But added to the mix were now Templars under demonic control. Full armor, no matter where she hit, it’d be ineffective, though she had no doubt that knocking them out would be futile. Magic at play, likely meant that she could spare none of them.

“Hmmmmm, I wonder how it became like this,” she hummed inspecting a mass of flesh, “almost reminds me of the Tower of Ishal… Though that place was a lost cause, unlike this one.”

It played into the Chantry myth that Darkspawn were a punishment for Human magisters crossing into the Fade, how interesting. Perhaps that myth wasn’t as far-fetched as it first seemed. It piqued her interest enough, she should read up on it later.

Someone snatched her hand away as she moved to touch it.

“Don’t touch that,” Zevran frowned down at her.

“Don’t tell me how to live my life,” she frowned right back at him reaching out with her other hand but it got snatched away as well causing her frown to deepen, “fine, you win. For now.”

He released her and they crossed up to the stairs and onto the next floor. Where they were greeted with more fleshy globules. She wanted to cut into one of them but didn’t want to risk causing people to feel barfy. Zevran might not get barfy, but he wasn’t the only one with her, Alistair and Wynne were as well. Though the texture looked… brainy. How interesting.

Too bad she also felt Zevran watching her to make sure she didn’t touch one of them.

Why was he being so damn protective? She tried to think back, wondering if there were a time where she’d ever acted as if she needed someone to protect her. She was drawing a colossal question mark, and so she thought and thought and thought. Ah, he said that he could protect himself as well as her. Oh, right, he’d also been watching her closely for a while now. He’d probably guessed she was on a path that would end with her destruction. She didn’t want him to ask about it, so she won’t say anything. But she wished he wouldn’t watch her so closely, there was nothing he could do to sway her.

She needed to die.

She needed to be put down.

Even if the one to put her down had to be herself.

There was nothing he could do or say to stop her.

Though, come to think of it. Since when was she HIS dear Warden? He seemed to call women my dear, but at some point, she became his dear Warden. Which made it sound like she was his personal Warden. When did that happen? And why? And now she was certain that there was nothing she could say that would get him to leave. Though, she didn’t understand why he seemed so fascinated by her.

That also didn’t make sense.

Just like everything else that’s happened so far.

“Ah… now I regret that second serving before we left,” Zevran groaned, “oh well.”

“Now that’s just unnecessary,” Alistair added.

“T—this cannot continue,” Wynne gasped, “we have to stop it…”

“It’s really reminding me of the Tower of Ishal now,” she said thoughtfully, “I wonder if I should prepare myself for a fight with a massive behemoth of a foe.”

“Oh, that’s right, you were always calm in the face of danger,” Alistair sighed.

“Why shouldn’t I be?” she asked, “it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“When have you—” Alistair cut himself off, “right, the Tower of Ishal.”

“I was gonna say…” she grinned, “but I’ve said it before: a calm mind is important in battle, whether against actual enemies, or against time as you try to stop someone from bleeding out.”

***

Thinking about it, his Warden did live in conditions that were similar to living in a Circle. The City Guard always watching, being sure to put down any Elves that showed an ability to fight, and now he learned of another thing that Alienage Elves had to think about: a Purge. He wondered how anyone was able to live under those conditions, it made training as a Crow seem easy. Hearing screams and watching families burn in their own homes seemed like a very unpleasant experience, though it served her well. Considering that she was always able to stay calm in most situations.

In that way it was rather similar to his training as a Crow: she was always able to keep her focus and turn into that methodical, cold-blooded executioner in a fight. He wondered if she had always lacked a fear of death, or if that was simply because she no longer wished to live. He had a feeling that it was the former, she seemed like the self-sacrificing type. One who would ignore her own pain and continue forward for the sake of others, even before whatever happened to her that had broken her so wholly and completely.

He was sure of it now: something had happened to someone she cared for, and that was what broke her.

***

They continued forwards, and… it sounded like someone was having a blast role-playing… something. It didn’t sound like erotic role play, just slice-of-life domestic happiness role-play.

“Everything is just as you wanted, my knight,” the Demon, Desire, she thinks, said, “our love and our family is more than you hoped for.”

“Role-playing a normal family life with a demon, huh?” she mused, “interesting choice.”

“Do you hear something, love?” the Templar asked.

“It is nothing, my darling, just the door, I will get it,” the Desire Demon replied, “the children have finished supper. Tuck them into bed while I see who it is.”

“Don’t be long,” the Templar replied, “the children will want to kiss you goodnight.”

“I will be but a moment, my pet,” the Desire Demon replied before turning to address them, “you are intruding upon a loving, intimate moment and I dislike disruptions.”

“Right, yes, well, hm,” she replied she had to think for a bit, “yeah, alright, all good dreams must come to an end, so you need to die now.”

She had to weigh her options, on one hand, he had the family he wanted. Just in a dream. On the other hand? He was under the control of a demon. The Tower at current, sucked, it was basically a choice between a beautiful dream or a horrifying reality. But she supposed she would want to be woken up so that she could truly live her life.

“What was that?” the Templar asked.

“Help! There are bandits at the door!” the Desire Demon cried, “they are going to murder the children!”

“They will not get past me!” the Templar replied.

He wasn’t wearing a helm, so she could… oh dear. No, she can’t dodge him continuously while trying to kill the demon first, especially with all of them focusing her. She was nowhere near that skilled. All she could do was offer his passing soul her apologies, as she did all the other Templars they’d killed on their way here.

They continued, more Templars, more demons.

“Oh, look. Visitors,” a Demon, Sloth, she thinks, said, “I’d entertain you, but… too much effort involved.”

Fair enough, she also hated wasting time and energy. However, that was simply because she had a lot of things she wanted to do, this guy, on the other hand, was just being lazy. Then again, she supposed that was what sloth was: the embodiment of laziness.

“Who—” she was cut off.

“That’s Niall!” Wynne shouted glaring at the demon, “what have you done to him?”

“He’s just resting, poor lad, he was so very, very weary,” the Sloth Demon replied, “you want to join us, don’t you?”

“Not particularly,” she shook her head.

“Wouldn’t you like to just lay down and… forget about all this?” the Sloth Demon asked, “leave it all behind?”

“What is this?” Zevran asked, “some ridiculous ploy to get me to let down my guard?”

“Possibly?” she shrugged.

“Can’t… keep eyes open. Someone… pi— OW!” Alistair shouted after she slapped him across the face, “I still… can’t…”

“Resist! You must resist,” Wynne said wearily, “else we are all lost…”

She could see and feel what was happening, so she backed herself towards a wall and slid down it with a yawn. She still wanted to see how long she could hide her bandages so she’ll just fall asleep leaning against the wall.

“Why do you fight? You deserve more…” the Sloth Demon said, “you deserve a rest. The world will go on without you.”

Hm? A house… she was inside of a house preparing dinner. Why was she in a house? Actually, why was she in a house preparing dinner? With weapons strapped to her? Why would she be preparing dinner with a sword and dagger strapped to her hips? Actually, where did she get weapons? Why did she have weapons? Did she have a death wish? Absolutely none of that made sense. She raised her hand to her head but stopped to stare at it in shock. A ring. A very familiar ring, a ring she saw and felt every day. And now she knew what this was: a dream.

“Kallian,” a voice she barely remembered laughed from behind her, “why do you look so surprised?”

Nela…ros…?

This was a dream, she knew it was a dream. There were things that needed to be done, a Blight that needed to be ended. So she can’t linger here… but she wanted to. She wanted to so, so badly. But it was too soon, it was too soon for her to die, she needed to find the others, and escape from this place. They needed to save the Circle of Magi, they had so many things they needed to accomplish. They needed to unite Ferelden and end the Blight. She couldn’t die here, not now. It wasn’t time yet.

“Nelaros,” she said feeling tears welling up in her eyes as she gave him a sad smile.

“What are you crying for?” Nelaros chuckled moving to wipe her tears for her before he stopped and stared at her in shock.

“I’m sorry I was too slow to save you, I’m sorry you died because of me,” she replied feeling more tears fall down her face as she twisted her dagger, “I’m sorry for this, I’m sorry for everything.”

She watched him back away from her glaring at her and her sword stole his head from his neck.

She did have a death wish.

As his body faded she dropped her sword and fell to her knees as she wailed, clutching at her heart.

She should be allowed this much, at least.

After a while, she sniffed and scrubbed at her eyes to begin inspecting the world around her, she wondered if she were crying in the real world as well.

She should count her blessings in that at least _that_ woman wasn’t here.

She saw a pedestal, one that had no business being in a house, much less _her_ house. Inspecting it, it was covered in markings she didn’t understand. It reminded her of those flat-ish round disks she kept finding that she also didn’t know what were. She should ask Alistair what they are later. There were only two of them lit up, and she guessed that she was currently in one of them. She wondered how it worked, and just randomly pressed her finger to one of them.

Nothing.

She pressed her finger to the other one and was engulfed by a bright light.

“Who are you!? Where did you come from? Are you a demon?” a Man began immediately questioning her, “no… I see that you’re not. You’re like me. Congratulations on getting out of that trap.”

“Yay me,” she cheered, “I have companions that came here with me, or at least I think I do. Are they trapped here too?”

“You came here with others? Then yes, they would be trapped,” the Man replied, “the demon traps everything that comes here in a dream it thinks they can’t—or won’t— try to leave.”

“I noticed,” she replied dryly, “almost got me.”

“I thought I’d escaped, too,” the Man replied, “but I’ve been wandering these empty grey spaces for a lifetime.”

“How did you end up here?” she asked.

“Through sheer stupidity, or perhaps very, very bad luck, my name is Niall, by the way,” Niall replied, “I was trying to save the Circle when I encountered the sloth demon. I expect our experiences were similar.”

“Pleased to meet you, my name is Kallian,” she replied, “and Owain mentioned you.”

“Owain helped me greatly, though I suppose I’ll never be able to repay him. The Litany was our weapon against the blood mages’ domination, but it’s too late. Everyone’s dead…”

“How are there so many blood mages here?” she asked, it had been bothering her. For a Circle of Magi, there were a shocking amount of them.

“I don’t know, they must have been practicing in secret, even teaching others. I knew these people, trusted them,” Niall answered, “the Litany was our only hope of saving the Circle, but now… This place drains you of everything: hope, feeling, life…”

“We’ll find a way out, because if I don’t get to punch either of those sorry sacks of shit I’m going to be incredibly pissed.”

“No, there is no way out of here. You think there might be, but you’d be wrong,” Niall shook his head and explained, “you see that pedestal there? I’ve studied the runes on it— runes that signify different islands of the sloth demon’s domain. The sloth demon itself is on the center island, but you can’t get there. The five islands around the center somehow form a protective ward. I thought I was getting somewhere when I figured that out, and I went to each island in turn only to have my hopes dashed. There’s always an obstacle. You’ll see the path but be unable to get to it, and it taunts you and drives you mad.”

“Protective ward?”

“I don’t know much. I… I think the sloth demon has placed lesser demons on each of the islands, I’ve seen them. They take different shapes but they’re there. Defeating them may be the only way to reach the sloth demon. But you have to get to them first. I… I couldn’t… I was too afraid to try.”

“So, what are the obstacles?”

“Yes… obstacles and mad dream things— a river of flame before a portal, or a door that shows you freedom through a keyhole which no key will fit. I once found a passageway smaller than my hand with a mouse going to and fro through it. Silly thing fled before I could question it.”

“Why would you talk to a mouse?”

“Because almost everyone here is a dreamer, except for the spirits and the demons, I suppose. Each dreamer may know things another may not. The mouse could have told me what lay beyond the tiny passage, or how to get there. Or even how I might make myself small like him, and crawl through myself. And if one could become small enough to take one path, perhaps there are similar ways to walk the others.”

“Could my companions be on one of these islands?”

“I… I don’t know, there are many dreamers. You might find a way to reach them through the islands… if you’re lucky.”

“I’ll be back then,” she replied, “I guess.”

“Don’t mind me then.”

She saw a black clouded thing and wondered if she should touch it, probably not. Her throwing daggers… They were just a dream version of them, right? So she shouldn’t lose any in the real world if she threw one, right?

Well, only one way to find out, she supposed, she fetched one from the pouch on her hip and threw it.

Passed right through, probably meant that she couldn’t go through that one. She wandered around again, and found a glowing purple one, and repeated her test. It disappeared, so she stepped into it.

“I— I just want to leave this place!” a Voice cried out, “HELP!”

A mouse, she was defending a mouse from a demon. Ah, this must be the one Niall saw. It’s been so long since she’d last fought on her own, it was a bit weird to do so again. Then again, she never really fought before, she simply led people through merry chases to their dooms. She'd still operated alone though, but after becoming a Grey Warden… Ever since she was recruited, she’d always been in a group. It was weird to not be in one again.

“Thank you! But… too late for me…” the Mouse said, “kill Yevena, the demoness that rules here. She protects her master… Sloth… there’s a door! A door only demons can see… the key must be in another realm. Take my power… save any others trapped in nightmares, kill the demons that guard Sloth. Make my…”

As light engulfed her she wondered, if she’ll ever be fast enough to save anyone? Or will she only be early enough to watch them die?

A mouse, she knew how to turn into a mouse now, which was fantastic, since it allowed her to go through the mouse holes. Though, having a tail was a new and strange sensation. However, she did not know how to switch back to being an Elf. Maybe… imagining herself as an Elf? Ah, yes, here we go. She wondered if she could turn into a cat, though there’s no way that’d be possible, right?

…Right?

She was now a cat, both literally and figuratively. What an accomplishment.

And this time, she wasn’t thinking that sarcastically.

“Something happened, didn’t it?” Niall asked, “you look a little different. What happened?”

“I learned how to turn into a mouse,” she replied, deciding to keep the cat in the bag for now.

“Did you? Did it help? I know I saw the tiny holes,” Niall said excitedly, “were you small enough to get through?”

“I thought you’d given up, why so excited?”

“I… I don’t know… You’re… so much braver than I am. I was so sure it was impossible to get anywhere.”

“Well, I am a Grey Warden, for good or for ill, I think bravery might be in the job description. Though I could be wrong.”

“Do you think you could learn other shapes? Maybe they could help you get to places you couldn’t otherwise.”

“It’s certainly worth a shot,” she replied moving to the fade pedestal, “any recommendations?”

“Try this one,” Niall said pointing at the island to the left of where they were.

“Alright,” she nodded and moved through to the next island.

Such a weird feeling, though these foes… were familiar ones, in that killing them was in her job description. Though, there was a lot of fire. Lots and lots of fire. She saw what Niall had meant: a river of flame kept her from some doors. Luckily, she could turn into a mouse and go through the mouse holes. Also a weird feeling. She wondered if this was how Morrigan shape-shifted.

“Yes… yes! Must be quiet, shhh… they won’t find me here. They won’t find me here!” a Dreaming Templar said, “you! Don’t move! They’ll hear us! They’ll—”

She wasn’t sure just how quiet this guy actually thought he was being, but she helped him kill the Darkspawn anyway.

“They’re gone. You… you did it, you killed them,” the Templar said and she felt a wave of nausea hit her, “but not all, their leaders are behind the unbreakable door. I give you my wisdom, it will let you _see_. And now I wake.”

She shook her head and slapped her cheeks, he wasn’t talking about the Alienage, he wasn’t talking about Nelaros. He was talking about the Darkspawn in the dream. He was waking up from a nightmare. She did good by him. She rubbed at her eyes and dried them on her sleeves before moving forwards. He said that the leader to this one was behind an unbreakable door, but none of the mouse holes she traveled led her there. Though, he did teach her how to be a… what was it? She didn’t even know, shit was weird. Though, oddly not quite as weird as the whole Bann Teagan thing.

Mouse said that on that first island, there was a door only demons could see, perhaps this was what she needed to get there? Only one way to find out.

“You look a little different again,” Niall said.

“Yeah, I learned how to become a… thing,” she replied, “I think I can get to the demon on this island now… There’s a door… here. Be right back.”

That must be Yevena, the boss of this island. She missed being able to hide behind Alistair right about now. Their bodies disappeared immediately, she had no shield, no armor. Well what doesn’t kill her makes her stronger, or something.

“Did you… did you kill it?” Niall asked, “I felt something, like the earth was shifting— except it probably wasn’t the earth…”

“Yeah, I killed it,” she nodded.

“You did? You managed to get to it and kill it…” Niall trailed off, “I didn’t think it was possible. Killing that demon must have opened something. Perhaps… perhaps the pieces are falling into place now.”

“I’m guessing the blood mages are responsible for this mess, then?” she asked.

“Uldred is the mastermind behind it all, at Uldred’s suggestion, the Circle was about to ally itself with Loghain, when the Teyrn’s treachery was revealed,” Niall explained and she felt a little, really, very, responsible, “Uldred made excuses but we were having none of it. He panicked then, tried to leave… Irving would not let him.”

“Did Uldred confess?” she asked.

“I was barely paying attention: such meetings are boring,” Niall replied, “the course of action usually decided before we even congregate.”

“I… suppose I can’t blame you there,” she replied, “when did the blood mages show up?”

“Uldred let loose a bolt of energy that flung us all against the far wall, that woke me up,” Niall recounted, “it might have been a signal: that was when a whole group of mages poured into the chamber, and that was when I saw real blood magic in action, for the first time in my life. It was like they brought the wrath of the Maker Himself down upon our heads.”

“I see…” she replied biting the nail of her thumb.

“Uldred must have also dabbled in demonology: when the fighting started, he tried to summon something… or some things,” Niall added, “they overwhelmed him, and when his screaming stopped, Uldred was gone.”

“Well, shit,” she sighed, “that sounds… like he got what was coming to him, really.”

“I’m sure he wishes he were dead,” Niall replied, “Uldred became an abomination, and when I saw it, I ran for my life.”

“Fight or flight, huh?” she closed her eyes, “well, fleeing isn’t always a bad thing. It means you can come back to fight another day.”

“I was in a panic. Once I calmed down, I thought about what would happen if… that thing… got out,” Niall nodded, “I gathered some of my fellows and we obtained the Litany from the stockroom. I thought if we disabled the others, we could throw everything we had at Uldred. But… I saw my friends fall, one by one… and now it’s my turn.”

“I wonder if this is my fault,” she sighed.

“How would this be your fault?” Niall asked.

“I lit the beacon at Ostagar, showing everyone that Loghain betrayed the King,” she replied, “and I did that intentionally: I wanted people to know that he’d committed the worst kind of treason… I suppose I didn’t stop to consider what would happen to the Circle of Magi. Then again, I did only really have five seconds to devote thought to making that decision.”

“No, you couldn’t have known,” Niall shook his head, “you couldn’t have known what Loghain had planned, and what Uldred would do… It’s best that Ferelden is aware of the truth.”

“Well, I still feel responsible,” she sighed, “so I’ll deliver us from this mess… any recommendations on where to go next? I couldn’t get to the demon on that island, the dreamer I ran into said that they were hiding behind an unbreakable door.”

“The rune for this island changed,” Niall said in awe, before pointing to the one to the right of them, “try here next.”

There was a lot of fire, and burning Templars. Unlike her usual dreams, however, this fire wasn’t as unpleasant. She wondered what it said about her that dreaming of fire had been a commonplace occurrence for the past six years of her life. She went through the mouse holes and doors she could, before arriving on another floor of the area. Where she was attacked by fiery Mabari. This island really liked fire, the other one she went to had a lot of fire too, but this one? Really loved it.

She turned into a mouse and went through a mouse hole.

“Must… control… anger,” a Voice behind her said and she moved out of the way of his attack as she shifted back to her original form, “but it bubbles. It burns… You MUST die!”

She stayed silent as she flowed out of the way of his assault, unleashing her own, until he stopped attacking her.

“The anger… fading… I am free. Take Rhagos’ power, use it and BURN him… burn them all,” the Templar said in awe, “he guards sloth, he bars the way… You must destroy the door… other dreamers, other powers… only way…”

Hm, she couldn’t get through that door either, then. Rather than go back to ask Niall, she decided to just go to the one directly under the one she was in, hopefully, that’ll give her… something. The form she needed to break those doors in, she hoped.

Oh dear… Mages, mages, and more mages… She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised, but it was her first time actually encountering mages here, and she was being hard countered. She ducked and rolled behind things to block her from fireballs, and utilized her throwing daggers, making sure to retrieve each one once the battle ended. She decided to use that last form she’d attained… Setting herself on fire…

Well, she _was_ a Fire Sister, after all, she supposed. Though it was still highly unpleasant considering the state of her actual body: scarred from burns. Looking down and seeing herself on fire was… gross.

“HELP ME!” a Voice shouted as soon as she got to the next floor, “PLEASE!”

What… what are those? Golems? Are those golems? What? …Does magic work against golems? She felt fire tingle to life beneath her fingertips, and… Yep, still wasn’t as weird as that whole Bann thing.

“Thank you, it is time for this dream to come to an end,” the Man said, “I give you my strength, it will be of little use against the demon that rules here. But perhaps it will help in other realms. Find a way to kill all the demon lords to open the way to Sloth. Free us all from this nightmare!”

His strength? Turning into a golem? That should be able to break those so-called unbreakable doors in the other two realms. But she should see what other obstacles lay on this island first. She turned into a cat to make back-tracking go faster, since they’re much more agile than any of her other forms and shifted as she saw fit. Though, being a cat agreed with her.

Ah, she could get to this one. Nice.

She decided to go tell Niall she that she thinks she might be able to get to the other demons as well now.

“I’ve been studying the runes a bit more,” Niall said, “I think your companions might be on these outlaying three.”

“Looks like I’ll need to get the connecting two to get to them then,” she replied, “I think I can get to the rest now.”

“Be prepared,” Niall replied, “they might be in traps of their own, and they might not want to leave.”

“Thanks,” she replied, “I think… I’ll manage… somehow.”

“Good luck,” Niall replied as she moved to one of the other islands where she hadn’t been able to reach the boss.

Four down, one to go, and now one of the outlying islands was open. The question now was to go now or wait until she opened up the way to the middle. On one-hand, they could be having happy fun times, where she had been. On the other hand? She had nothing, whoever it was can wait.

“The path is clear,” Niall said in shock as she went to report to him before going for her companions, “I can’t believe it.”

“Yeah, I’m going to go make sure my companions are safe,” she nodded, “and then it’s time to end this nightmare.”

“It’s been a long time coming, Kallian,” Niall replied, “go.”

She nodded and left, deciding to go south first. She had a fitting new cat form that she wanted to show off because she was going to lose it quite soon.

Let’s see… That is… Wynne, who was, technically, the first of her companions that she’d met.

And who probably wouldn’t find her cool new trick very cool. She’s been dealing with this madness for a while, so she’ll just approach her as the normal everyday ordinary Elf, Kallian Tabris.

“Maker forgive me, I failed them all,” Wynne said mournfully, “they died and I did not stop it.”

She was feeling good about her decision to not be a cat, right now.

“They’re not dead yet, Wynne,” she replied, “the Circle can still be saved.”

“What about all this? How can you say that when you are faced with this?” Wynne asked, “death. Can you not see it? It’s all around us.”

“It always has been and always will be,” she replied, “but this is the Fade, you are in a dream.”

“Why was I spared, if not to help them? What use is my life now that I have failed in the task that was given me?” Wynne asked, she wasn’t listening to her, “leave me to my grief. I shall bury their bones, scatter their ashes to the four winds, and mourn their passing till I too am dead.”

“You have to fight this feeling, Wynne,” she argued, “this isn’t real. This isn’t what’s happened. Not yet. We can still stop it.”

“Your blatant disregard for the souls of the dead strikes me as being utterly inappropriate,” Wynne glowered at her.

“Wynne, please, think,” she said imploringly, “think about what you’re doing here, what I’m doing here, and why.”

“I do not know what you are trying to tell me. Why must you make this more painful?” Wynne argued, “and where were you when this happened? I trusted you as an ally and you were nowhere to be found.”

“I…” she felt tears threatening to spill from her eyes remembering how she had to kill Nelaros, watch him die all over again, “I am the only thing here that’s real. Ignore everything else.”

“I do not know what this will accomplish, but I will do this if it will satisfy you,” Wynne sighed but acquiesced, “it is… difficult… to focus. It feels as though something is… stopping me from concentrating. I have never had so much trouble. Perhaps some time away from this place will help me think clearly.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” she replied with a soft smile, before noticing movement in her periphery, and bringing out the monster within her.

“Don’t leave us, Wynne,” an Apprentice said causing Wynne to turn and stare at him in shock, “we don’t want to be alone.”

“Holy Maker!” Wynne exclaimed, “stay away, foul creature!”

_“Stay away from us!”_

Her body moved before she had time to register what it was doing, cleaving through it with her sword.

“You have to defeat them to leave,” she declared.

“Stay, Wynne,” Another of them said, “sleep soundly in the comforting embrace of the earth. Do not fight it. You belong here, with us.”

“N— no. Not yet,” Wynne replied sharply, “my task is not yet done… it is not time yet.”

She was already moving through the others as they tried to hold her here, and Wynne helped her finish off the last.

“Is it over? Thank the Maker for you,” Wynne sighed in relief, “wait… what’s happening? Where are you going?”

“We’ll see each other again soon, I’m sure,” she replied with a shrug watching Wynne leave.

She decided to go East next, though, she did unlock the West one first… Well, too late! Zevran and Alistair know her solidified cat status.

Ah, it’s Alistair.

Wait… _That’s_ Goldanna? She’d been hoping that that wasn’t her.

“Hey! It’s great to see you again, I was just thinking about you… isn’t that a marvelous coincidence?” Alistair grinned down at her, “this is my sister, Goldanna. These are her children, and there’s more about somewhere. We’re one big happy family, at long last!”

Just… just how much of a cat did he see her as being, exactly? For him to just… see her like this and think of it as normal?

Also, he seemed really happy, and carefree.

“You seem very… content,” she said as he knelt down to talk to her.

“I am! I’m happier than I’ve been my entire life. Isn’t that strange?” Alistair replied with a big goofy smile, “I thought being a Grey Warden would make me happy, but it didn’t. This does.”

“I’m overjoyed to have my little brother back,” Goldanna said happily and she felt her fur rise straight up in alarm, “I’ll never let him out of my sight again!”

Goldanna was nowhere near as bad as Elva, but holy shit this was still creepy.

“Alistair, you live with your sister?” she asked.

“There’s nothing wrong with living with my sister,” Alistair replied, “I’ve never had a real family, before.”

“Well, Alistair, is your friend staying for supper?” Goldanna asked.

“Say you’ll stay! Goldanna’s a great cook,” Alistair replied, “maybe she’ll make her mince pie. You can, can’t you?”

“Of course, dear brother,” Goldanna replied, “anything for you.”

“Alistair, level with me here,” she said putting her paws on his shoulders, “what race am I _actually_ supposed to be?”

“You’re acting really strangely,” Alistair frowned at her.

“Alistair, what is my race supposed to be?” she asked again.

“A… no… you shouldn’t be a cat,” Alistair replied.

“Where is the only place where I could ever be a cat?” she asked.

“The… Fade?” Alistair replied.

“Now think,” she continued her questioning, “what’s the last memory you have of when we were together?”

“I remember… a tower. The Circle… it was under attack… there were demons,” Alistair replied, “that’s all I really remember.”

“Right, the Sloth demon, do you remember him?” she asked shifting back.

“This is a dream?!” Alistair stared in shock and she nodded, “but it’s so real.”

“It’s not,” she replied, “there’s only one place where I could ever actually be a cat without suddenly becoming a mage.”

“Right, this doesn’t feel right anymore,” Alistair said, “I think we should go.”

“Yes, we should,” she nodded wanting to get away from creepy Goldanna, “like now, because that’s not really your sister.”

“She is… but she isn’t,” Alistair replied.

“No! He is ours,” Goldanna said in a gravelly voice, “and I’d rather see him dead than free!”

“By the way, Kalli?” Alistair said as they moved around the battlefield together.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe don’t be a talking cat around a Templar in the Fade.”

“…Yeah.”

They finished off the rest of the creatures with ease.

“I can’t believe it,” Alistair sighed, “how did I not see this earlier?”

“Better question: why did you see me as an actual cat, and immediately think ‘oh, that’s just regular normal everyday Kallian’?”

“Right… well… yes, uh, well… Try not to tell everyone how easily fooled I was,” Alistair coughed, “and _especially_ not Elissa!”

“No promises.”

“Are we going now?” Alistair asked, “wait, where are you going? What’s happening to me? Hey!”

“Bye!”

That really could have ended… weirdly for her. She had no doubt she could have fended off Alistair, but then Goldanna would probably… yeah, it would have gone weirdly.

Ah, well, she was a woman who did not learn from her mistakes, plus, she was a cat. She wouldn’t be able to enjoy this for much longer, the path to the Sloth demon was open. She was busting them out of this joint as soon as she collected Zevran.

Wait, was that… a rack? She’d never seen one before… huh…

“I think I saw him flinch that time,” a Crow, she was guessing, said.

“Maybe,” the Second Crow replied, “we’ll make you scream yet, apprentice.”

“We’re not going to go easy on you,” the First Crow said, clearly ignoring the cat just waltzing in doing what cats do: owning the place, “trust me.”

“No… I wouldn’t… want you to hold back,” Zevran groaned as she jumped up onto the rack and then sat on his chest, “I’d be disappointed if you… did.”

She put a paw on his face, drawing his amber eyes to her green ones as her tail swished about.

“Zevran,” she asked, “what are you doing?”

“What… what are you doing here?” Zevran asked staring at her in shock, “you’re not supposed to be… here… and neither are… you supposed… to be a cat.”

“Whoa! You picked up o—” she covered her mouth with a paw, “right well, what are you doing?”

“This is my test, I am going to be a Crow…” Zevran replied, “I need to show them I can tolerate… pain.”

“You’re already an Antivan Crow,” she pointed out.

“What? That cannot be, and yet… you speak the truth?” Zevran replied in confusion, “I can feel it… also you on my chest. So, then what? Is this nothing but a bad dream? A bad memory?”

“Whoa, you picked up on th—” she cut herself off again, “ahem… Yes.”

“Oh, I think he’s questioning us,” one of the Crows replied, and she shifted back, “that’s a very, very bad thing to do, isn’t it?”

“Not if you’re dead,” she replied throwing a dagger into the forehead of the one without the helm and slicing off the one with the helm’s head, “I’m getting pre—wah!”

She got carried away with being able to turn into a cat.

Regrets.

She had them.

Because now she was staring up at Zevran, who’d turned the tables… rack? On her.

“Well, that was bracing,” Zevran grinned down at her, “there’s nothing like a good racking, is there?”

“I’m sorry I sat on you as a cat,” she replied, “I won’t do it again, promise.”

“Well, I’m sure we can— hmm?” Zevran’s face looked confused, ah he was going the way of Alistair and Wynne, “what are you doing? Where are you going?”

“Bye,” she replied.

Talk about saved by the bell… She sighed heavily and lifted both hands to cover her face.

She’d killed the dream version of her fiance… husband? A man she'd truly, genuinely loved.

And then ended up underneath another man a few hours later, had she always been this kind of woman?

Stupid? Yes, actually, very much so.

She should have been the one to die, not him… She pressed her palms to her eyes for a moment before leaving this island to go tell Niall that she’d be attacking Sloth soon.

“The way is open, and you’ve found your companions,” Niall said, “finish this, for every single one of us who fell prey to the Sloth demon.”

“I will,” she grinned, “he’ll regret crossing me pretty soon.”

“I’m sure he will,” Niall nodded.

She went to the Sloth Demon’s Sanctum. It was time to finish this, it was time to punch that sorry sack of shit in the face.

“What do we have here? A rebellious minion? An escaped slave?” the Demon laughed, “my, my… but you do have some gall… But playtime is over. You all have to go back now.”

Movement in her periphery, Alistair, Wynne, and Zevran.

“Oh, here I am! And there you are!” Alistair exclaimed, “you just disappeared. Well, no matter!”

“How did I get here?” Zevran sighed, “what happened to all those luscious wood nymphs?”

“You will not hold us, demon,” Wynne declared, “we found each other in this place and you cannot stand against us.”

“I have some gall, hm? I wonder about that…” she replied holding up her fist with enough anger and rage that it was shaking, “I’m about to fucking brutalize you.”

“If you go back quie—” she cut him off by acquainting his face with her fist.

“You touched something you shouldn’t have, you made me do something I hated with every single fiber of my being,” she seethed, “I have gall? _I_ have gall? How fucking _dare_ you. You started a fight, I’m finishing it.”

“Can’t you think about someone other than yourself?” the Sloth Demon asked teleporting to a spot further away from her, “I’m hurt, so very, very hurt.”

“Not as much as you’re about to,” she replied.

“You wish to battle me?” the Sloth Demon laughed, “so be it… you will learn to bow to your betters, mortal!”

They fought, the demon transforming several times. With Alistair back, she could now use him as her shield and armor. The demons kept vanishing on kill, so using them to block attacks had been impossible. The dreamers and Darkspawn and such that attacked her, weren’t that much of a problem. They’d stuck around for a bit more.

Once the fighting was over, Niall appeared before her, and the others… Well, she guessed they woke up.

“You defeated the demon. I never thought… I never expected you to free yourself, to free us both,” Niall said, “when you return… take the Litany of Adralla from my… body. It will protect you from the worst of the blood magic.”

“Your body?” she asked, “aren’t you coming with?”

“I cannot go with you, I have been here far too long,” Niall replied sadly, “for you it will have been an afternoon’s nap. Your body won’t have wasted away in the real world while your spirit lay in the hands of a demon.”

“Then… you’re dying?”

“Every minute I was here, the Sloth Demon was feeding off of me, using my life to fuel the nightmares of this realm. There is so little of me left…” Niall explained, “I was never meant to save the Circle, or… survive its troubles. I am dying. It is as simple as that.”

“There must be something I can do.”

“Thank you, but it is too late for me. I do not fear what may come. They say we return to the Maker in death, and that isn’t such a terrible thing… My only regret is that I could not save the Circle, but you… you can,” Niall replied, “take the Litany off my… my body, when you return. It is important!”

Too late.

She was too late again.

She was simply only early enough to watch him die as well.

“I will… but what about…?”

“I can rest easy, knowing you will save the Circle. I’m… not a hero, perhaps trying to be one was foolish.”

“I’m not either,” she replied, “but ordinary people can do great things when they have to… And you did help. I couldn’t have gotten through this without you.”

“Dark times, greater acts of heroism, eh? You may be right… Before I was taken to the Circle, my Mother said I was meant for greatness, that I would be more than my ancestors could have ever dreamed… I hope I haven’t disappointed her.”

“You didn’t, Niall,” she replied offering him a sad smile.

“It is time for us both to be on our way,” Niall replied, “remember the Litany of Adralla… The Circle is all that matters now.”

“I will,” she nodded.

“Thank you,” Niall replied, “and goodbye… friend.”

“Rest well,” she replied, “may we meet again, in another life.”

The world faded to white around her, and she woke up.


	24. How the Cat Saved the Circle

They woke up before she did, and he looked around, finding her leaning against a wall, and he was about to rouse her when he noticed it. The others noticed it too, the resigned look on her face, and the tears flowing from her eyes. Though, that worried him even more than the fact that she hadn’t woken up yet.

What did his Warden dream of that caused her to cry?

Before they fought the demon, she’d said that he ‘touched something he shouldn’t have’, and ‘made her do something she hated with every single fiber of her being’, and she had clearly been very angry. It was the first time any of them had ever seen her that angry.

He reached over to her and gave her a gentle shake. He was beginning to worry, what if the demon had done something that would trap her in a nightmare for the rest of her life? Like the one in Redcliffe?

“Mmm,” Kallian’s brows furrowed before she finally opened her eyes, “what…?”

“You did not wake with the rest of us, my dear Warden,” he replied fingers lifting her face to look at him as his thumbs wiped away her tears, “what did you dream of to make you cry, precisely?”

“I was listening to Niall’s last words,” Kallian replied batting his hands away, “and that’s—”

“No, you don’t get to say it’s a secret this time,” Alistair said cutting her off, and she pursed her lips, “you saw ours. Fess up.”

“Home,” Kallian said with a sigh, “I was home, with my family. Cooking dinner.”

“So you had to…” Alistair trailed off.

“Yeah, but we have duties to fulfill, and a Blight to end,” Kallian sighed standing up to begin doing her usual stretches, “so of course, I was pissed…”

Well, with her awake, he could now think about how she had been both on top, and underneath him. Sad, really, that he couldn’t keep her there. He wished that she knew what she did to him, but she never seemed to.

That memory should serve him well later.

***

She went through her throwing dagger pouch and counted all of her blades. Yep, she didn’t lose any to the dream, phew. That would have been annoying. She heaved a deep sigh, she hadn’t lied: she was at home, with her family, cooking dinner. A husband was generally part of someone's family.

She was not looking forward to sleeping tonight.

She would also need to ignore how _right_ being around Zevran felt, she was still in love with another man. A man she was supposed to be happily married to, a man who died because of her, a man who’d loved her just as she’d loved him. Not only that, but there was also the fact that she knew what the future held for her. 

There was also the fact that everything she touched was destined to fail.

And she was tired of that.

She’d become a Grey Warden, and look what happened at Ostagar. She met the King, and look what happened to him, too. Daveth and Ser Jory? Look what happened to them, they died during the Joining. She met Alistair, and look at what happened to Redcliffe and Arl Eamon. She met Wynne, and look what happened to Kinloch Hold. She loved Shianni, and look at what happened to her. She loved Nelaros, and look what happened to him. Her Father? She didn’t know if he were okay, but he was probably reeling from the aftereffects of her rampage. She’d loved her life in the Alienage, and she _knew_ that they were most likely going through hell because of her.

It was only a matter of time before something happened to Leliana, Morrigan, and Zevran as well.

Though, thinking about it… Why didn’t she connect the Goldanna Alistair was talking about with the one she knew? Of course it was _that_ Goldanna, there’s only _one_ Goldanna living near the Alienage. It was probably because she wanted to be stupidly optimistic. She really didn’t want to believe they were related by blood… That poor man… Ah, well, this might be a good thing. Perhaps she’ll be able to use this as a lesson for him, Alistair needs to learn to look out for himself more.

“By the way, Wynne, I think you have a right to know this: Niall mentioned that the blood mages must have been here for a while and that there had been a group of them,” she said crouching next to Niall’s body to look for the Litany, “he said that when they confronted Uldred, he tried to leave but since Irving didn’t let him, he ‘let loose a bolt of energy that flung us all against the far wall’ and that ‘it may have been a signal’ because ‘that was when a whole group of mages poured into the chamber’.”

She decided to keep it to herself that Niall had been half asleep throughout the whole thing. Though something had bothered her: his body had wasted away. Which made her concerned for Arl Eamon.

“What?!” Wynne said in shock, “how could that have happened?”

“I think… Uldred was keeping them secret, Niall said that he thinks Uldred might have dabbled in demonology, as he tried to summon either something or some things,” she recounted standing back up with the Litany, “it didn’t go well, he became an abomination… I think the terrifying abomination Irving fought, might have been Uldred.”

“Then we need to get to him quickly,” Wynne replied.

“I agree, in any case, what you do with that knowledge is up to you, I will not be telling anyone else,” she asked, “for now, what can you tell me of the Litany?”

“I see… Adralla was a bard in the service of Divine Clemence the First during the second Exalted March. The Schism had split the Chantry into the one we know and the Imperial Chantry, in Tevinter,” Wynne explained, “there was much mistrust of the Tevinter Imperium at this time, as you can imagine.”

“Interesting,” she nodded inspecting the Litany.

“Even though the Imperial Chantry had forbade blood magic, the Chantry— our Chantry— did not believe them, after all, many of the Tevinter mages, and even their magister lords, had used blood magic with impunity throughout history,” Wynne continued, “together with the help of the Chantry and its Templars, Adralla wrote the Litany, to protect against the mind-controlling abilities of blood mages.”

“How do we use it?” she asked.

“It is just a spell, like any other spell, any mage should be able to recite it,” Wynne replied, “reciting the Litany breaks any existing mind control and prevents future attempts at domination from being successful.”

“I see, then you should take it,” she said handing her the Litany, “there’s also the fact that I’m a rogue and probably won’t have time to use it… so yeah, you should hold onto it.”

They continued forwards until she pressed her ear against a door and heard… growling? It didn’t sound like the growling of an abomination… it sounded… like an animal?

She cracked open the door to take a peek.

Yep, the world still didn’t make sense.

Good to know.

After dancing around the dragonlings trying to figure out how to go about killing them, they managed to finish the fight.

She really, really, really wanted to touch one of the sacks of flesh and cut into it out of morbid curiosity, but she knew Zevran was eyeing her. The spoilsport.

She also wanted the world to make sense, but that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

“It’s a Templar! He… he’s still alive, I think!” Wynne gasped, “we must help him!”

“It could be a trap,” Zevran pointed out causing her to snort, cover her mouth and look away when he turned to frown at her.

“Watch now,” Alistair said, “I’m not falling asleep again!”

She snorted again and refused to meet his eye as well.

“Not.a.word,” Alistair said his hands on her shoulders.

“Y—yeah,” she replied still covering her mouth with her hand, “I—I’ll t—try.”

They walked towards the giant pillar of light, it was shiny, she wanted to touch it. But she also knew someone would pull her away… How could she get him to stop caring about her? What could she do that would get him to just… stop minding her?

“This trick again? I know what you are,” the Templar glared at them, “it won’t work. I will stay strong.”

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“The boy is exhausted, and this cage…I’ve never seen anything like it,” Wynne remarked, “rest easy… help is here.”

“Enough visions, if anything in you is Human… kill me now and stop this game,” the Templar begged, “you broke the others, but I will stay strong, for my sake… for theirs… Filthy blood mages… getting in my head… I will not break… I’d rather die.”

Well, nothing in her is Human, she is an Elf. But pointing that out won’t help any.

“Calm down,” she said soothingly, “you’re safe now.”

“Silence! I’ll not listen to anything you say, now begone!” the Templar glared and then stared at them in shock, “still here? But that’s always worked before… I close my eyes, but you are still here when I open them.”

“We’re real,” she replied keeping her voice soft and soothing, hoping to bring him into her flow, “and we’re here to help.”

“Don’t blame me for being cautious, the voices… the images… so real,” the Templar replied, “did Greagoir send you? How… how did you get here?”

“He did send us, in a sense,” she replied.

“Good… kill Uldred, kill them all for what they’ve done, they caged us like animals… looked for ways to break us. I’m the only one left,” the Templar replied, “they turned some into… monsters, and… there was nothing I could do.”

“You must stay strong,” she replied.

“To think I once felt pity for the Circle… Now I’d like nothing more than to wipe their taint off the face of Thedas,” the Templar glowered and her blood ran cold, “only mages have that much power at their fingertips. Only mages are so susceptible to the infernal whisperings of the demons.”

What this man wanted was genocide.

“Where are Irving and the other mages?” she asked, there was no getting through to him. Not right now, right now, they were wasting valuable time. 

“What others?” the Templar replied, “what are you talking about?”

“Irving and the other mages who fought Uldred,” Wynne clarified, “where are they?”

“They are in the Harrowing Chamber,” the Templar replied, “the sounds coming out from there… oh, Maker.”

“We must hurry,” Wynne said, “they are in grave danger, I am sure of it.”

“You can’t save them,” the Templar replied, “you don’t know what they’ve become.”

“I can’t just kill them all,” she replied.

“They’ve been surrounded b—by blood mages,” the Templar replied, “whose wicked fingers snake into your mind and corrupt your thoughts.”

“His hatred of mages is so intense,” Alistair said quietly, “the memory of his friends’ deaths is still fresh in his mind.”

“He’s suffered pain and anguish like few have had to endure,” Wynne added, “that and his lust for revenge have confused the issue—”

“Do _not_ presume to judge me, mage!” the Templar glared, “I am thinking clearly— for perhaps the first time in my life.”

“If that’s the case then I should kill every single every single Human I come across,” she remarked, “however, people are complex creatures and need to be treated on a case by case basis.”

“Why would you kill every Human you come across?” Alistair asked in alarm.

“For having the ability to hurt those I care about without much retribution, however, you may be able to solve one problem with violence, but you sow the seeds for another,” she replied borrowing words from the Dalai Lama, “hate begets hate, suffering begets suffering, violence begets violence.”

“Are you really saving anyone by taking this risk?” the Templar glared, “to ensure this horror is ended… to guarantee that no abomination or blood mages live, you must kill everyone up there.”

“No, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did that,” she replied, “doing that would be an insult to the person I am.”

“Thank you,” Wynne sighed in relief, “I knew you would make a rational decision…”

“Rational? How is this rational?” the Templar glowered, “do you understand the danger?”

“I know full well the danger of magic, but killing innocents because they might be maleficarum is not justice,” Wynne replied, “I know you are angry—”

“You know nothing! I am thinking about the future of the Circle,” the Templar replied, “of Ferelden!”

“What you want, is genocide,” she said flatly, “and I cannot abide by that.”

“I am just willing to see the painful truth, which you are content to ignore. But what can I do?” the Templar scowled, “as you can see, I am in no position to directly influence your actions, though I would love to deal with the mages myself.”

“Small blessings,” she replied.

“Fine, then, deal with Uldred, if that is what you plan to do,” the Templar glowered, “once he is dead, I will be freed.”

“Everyone will,” she replied, “even the mages.”

“No one ever listens, not until it’s far too late,” the Templar sighed, “Maker turn his gaze on you. I hope your compassion hasn’t doomed us all.”

“The true hero is one who conquers his own anger and hatred,” she said once again borrowing words before leaving, “I hope that one day you may conquer yours.”

She didn’t blame him for his way of thinking. He’d been through a lot, all she could do was hope that he could one day move past this, so with that thought, she pushed him from her mind and entered the Harrowing Chamber. She told Niall she would save the Circle, and she never dealt in empty promises.

She recognized that man, he was at the War Council, in Ostagar… _that_ was Uldred?

“Do you accept the gift that I offer?” Uldred asked the mage who nodded, probably simply to make the pain stop.

They weren’t in time to use the Litany… Why was she eternally too late? Why was she eternally too slow? What use was she, truly?

“Ah… look what we have here, an intruder,” Uldred or what had once been him said, “I bid you welcome.”

“I remember you, or at least I remember your host,” she replied, “from Ostagar. At the War Council.”

“Ahhh I thought you looked familiar, the derelict Elven woman who dared to speak strategy,” Uldred replied, “would you care to join our revels?”

“I think we’ll just kill you now,” she replied, “if it’s all the same to you.”

“Fight, if you must,” Uldred said before changing into a… massive behemoth, “it will just make my victory all the sweeter.”

That feeling when you’re joking but then apparently predict the future.

“So… I’m just going to say this now,” she stated, “I was joking about fighting a massive behemoth of a foe.”

“Well, let’s just hope you don’t get filled with arrows and suffer a cracked skull this time,” Alistair replied, “I don’t think Flemeth will come all this way to save us again.”

“I don’t either,” she replied, “you wanna send me flying again?”

“It worked last time,” Alistair shrugged as they both began moving into position, “try not to get eaten… or whatever he might do to you.”

“Yeah,” she replied, “I have no intentions of dying here.”

This time she launched herself higher, and forced her body into a spiral to add speed, and ultimately, power behind her blow while also keeping him from being able to snatch her out of the air. Once she was about to hit the ground, she tucked her body into a roll to soften the damage of her impact as she reacquainted herself with the ground, and then unfurrowed her body to kick out and slide her body around to face him to make sure he was dead.

He was.

And she was dizzy from all the spinning so she just sat there for a bit. It probably didn’t help that she had apparently been crying for who knows how long, and was a little dehydrated.

“Are you okay, my dear Warden?” Zevran asked offering her a hand.

“Dizzy… so much spinning,” she replied before taking the offered hand and being yanked to her feet. That made her dizzy too so she just leaned on him for a bit. She felt him freeze, “sorry, change in elevation… I’m good.”

“Maker, I’m too old for this,” Irving said as Alistair helped him up.

“Irving! Are you alright?” Wynne asked moving to his side.

“I’ve… nghh… been better, but I am thankful to be alive,” Irving replied, “I suppose that is your doing, isn’t it, Wynne?”

“I wasn’t alone,” Wynne replied, “I had help.”

“The Circle owes all of you a debt we will never be able to repay,” Irving replied, “come, the Templars await. We shall let them know that the tower is once again ours.”

“Yes,” she nodded, “before they go crazy or something.”

“I’ll need you to guide me down the stairs,” Irving replied, “ah, curse whoever insisted the Circle be house in a tower…”

“I’ll help you,” Alistair said quickly, “Kallian’s so thin and light that I feel like if you hit her, even slightly, she’ll shatter.”

“…Clearly not the case, considering the Tower of Ishal,” she pursed her lips, “but alright then.”

They began moving down all the floors of the Tower, collecting the imprisoned Templar, Cullen, as they went, while making sure to keep an eye on him. She went to tell Godwin that Uldred was dead, and the demons are gone. They moved to rendezvous with Morrigan and Leliana.

“You’re back,” Morrigan remarked, “’twould seem you were successful.”

“We were,” she nodded, “how were things down here?”

“Quiet, and mostly peaceful,” Leliana replied.

“Oh, the First Enchanter,” Elroy remarked, “I didn’t think you’d actually be successful.”

“How’re my parents doing, do you know?”

“They were doing alright the last time I saw them, though, that was a few months ago… Anyway, I gotta go talk to people.”

They moved to go talk to Greagoir.

“Irving? Maker’s breath,” Greagoir exclaimed, “I did not expect to see you alive.”

“It is over, Greagoir,” Irving replied, “Uldred… is dead.”

“Uldred tortured these mages, hoping to break their wills and turn them into abominations,” Cullen said, “we don’t know how many of them have turned.”

“What?” Irving frowned, “don’t be ridiculous!”

“Of course he’ll say that! He might be a blood mage!” Cullen glowered, “don’t you know what they did? I won’t let this happen again!”

“I am the Knight-Commander here,” Greagoir said, “not you.”

“And what does the Knight-Commander think, then?” she asked.

“We have won back the Tower,” Greagoir replied, “I will accept Irving’s assurance that all is well.”

“But they may have demons within them,” Cullen argued, “lying dormant… lying in wait!”

“Enough! I have already made my decision,” Greagoir said sharply, “thank you, you have proven yourself a friend of both the Circle and the Templars.”

“I couldn’t just let things stand like that,” she replied.

“I promised you aid, but with the Circle restored, my duty is to watch the mages,” Greagoir replied, “they are free to help you, however. Speak with them.”

“What will the Templars do now?” she asked.

“For now, I will have to oversee a sweep of the Tower, there may be some survivors and we should do our best to tend to them,” Greagoir replied, “please, excuse me, and Irving… it is good to have you back.”

“Ah, I’m sure we’ll be at each other’s throats again in no time,” Irving chuckled before turning to her, “here we are, then, the Tower in disarray, the Circle nearly annihilated… though it could have been much, much worse. I am glad you arrived when you did. It’s almost as though the Maker Himself sent you.”

She was still of the opinion that if the Maker sent her, he was a sick, sadistic son of a bitch. It made her glad she turned her back on him all those years ago, honestly, he could go fuck himself. Which was admittedly part of the reason why she expected a lightning bolt to connect with her face.

“That’s… the second time I’ve heard that, recently,” she replied wryly, “but I’m glad I could help.”

“From what Greagoir said, it seems that you came here seeking allies,” Irving nodded, “the least we can do is help you against the Darkspawn. I would hate to survive this only to be overcome by the Blight.”

“What about the Tower?” she asked, “don’t you have to stay here?”

“We will do what we can for now, but if the Blight spreads, the Tower itself will be lost,” Irving replied, “stopping the Blight is more important. You have my word, as First Enchanter: the Circle will join the Grey Wardens in the fight.”

“Thank you,” she replied with a smile, “ah, also, in Redcliffe, Arl Eamon’s in a coma, if you could send someone to look after him, that would be wonderful.”

“We’ll see what we can do,” Irving replied.

“Irving, I have a request,” Wynne said speaking up, “I seek leave to follow the Grey Warden.”

“Wynne… we need you here,” Irving replied, “the Circle needs you.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Irving, but the Circle will do fine without me, the Circle has you,” Wynne replied, “this woman is brave and good, and capable of great things. If she will accept my help, I will help her accomplish her goals.”

She wasn’t a good woman, and if by ‘great things’ she meant ‘ruin everything and doom us all’ she was correct.

“I would be honored to have you join us, Wynne,” she replied.

“You were never one to stay in the Tower when there was adventure to be had elsewhere,” Irving replied wryly.

“Why stay when I can be of service elsewhere?” Wynne asked.

“Then I give you leave to follow the Grey Warden, but know that you always have a place here,” Irving replied, “there is much to be done here, and I must go. You must forgive me for not being a proper host.”

“Considering the circumstances,” she replied wryly, “it’s understandable, till next we meet.”

“Yes, when the time comes,” Irving replied, “we will stand beside you.”

***

The feeling of her hair brushing against him, her breath on his neck as she leaned against him, and the smell of her. She would be the death of him, he was sure of it now.

Though, honestly, he would be fine with that.

Her voice, her words, her actions, her expressions, the way she moved, her mannerisms, the feel of her…

That memory really would serve him well later, among other things.

When he noticed Elroy staring at her, he stole her lips, and was assaulted by her sleeves. But it was worth the look on the boys face as she huffed and marched away.

“Well, have fun saving the world,” Elroy sighed.

“Well, have fun sitting in your tower,” Kallian replied with a snide grin.

“It’s nice to see you haven’t changed,” Elroy replied.

“Nya-ha-ha, well, bye-bye,” Kallian laughed and with a wave, she turned to enter the boat, and he decided to help her in.

And even though she looked at him suspiciously, she accepted his help. He gave Elroy a snide grin as he climbed into the boat as well.

“How was retaking the Tower?” Leliana asked as they were rowed back across the lake.

“Kalli got so angry she punched a demon in the face,” Alistair remarked.

“Alistair basically called me brittle,” Kallian remarked chin in her hand as she looked off to the side, “in that he claimed that he felt that if you hit me, I will shatter.”

“You’re so thin!” Alistair replied, “and light! I didn’t even know you’d launched yourself up until I saw you falling!”

“She looked like she had wings,” he recounted.

“…am I a bird now?” Kallian quirked a brow at him, “did I go from cat to bird?”

“No you still act like a cat,” Alistair replied, “but I can see where he’s coming from. Though, how are you so strong despite being so thin?”

“Mm? Ahhh… part of it’s from my momentum,” Kallian replied, “I use speed to put more force and power behind my blows.”

“And the other part?” he asked.

“Secret, but I’ll just say that I spent time making sure that the only weapon I’d really need to defend myself is my own body. No matter how many people I face, and whether I have weapons or not,” Kallian replied before a look of glee crossed her face, “ah, but speaking of cats…”

“NOT! A! WORD! KALLI!” Alistair roared making Kallian snort and try to contain her laughter.

“What about cats?” Morrigan asked.

“I got to turn into one in the Fade,” Kallian replied, reminding him of his own encounter with her in the Fade, “a demon forced us to take a nap. Which is why I got angry and punched him in the face.”

“He’d trapped us in our own nightmares,” Wynne sighed, “if she hadn’t broken herself out of hers first… I shudder to think of what would have happened to the rest of us.”

“…Yeah,” Kallian muttered despondently.

“You were very strong, and brave to have done so,” Wynne said comfortingly, “even though it hurt you.”

“…I suppose,” Kallian sighed tiredly, “in any case, we’ll spend the rest of the day at the Spoiled Princess, and then head off to Denerim at first light.”

“Are you going to see your family?” Alistair asked.

“Nope,” Kallian replied waving a sleeve around, “I can’t go home.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“At current, it’s best they think I’m dead,” Kallian sighed, his Warden looked tired and worn out, “I don’t want them doing something stupid.”

He helped Kallian out of the boat, after everyone else had clambered out, Leliana giggling the whole time. They returned to the inn and told Sten of their success, while Diana knocked into Kallian with enough force to down her, causing her to cough and wheeze beneath the war hound.

“Breathe… I can’t…” Kallian wheezed, “so… heavy… you’re… too bulky…”

“See! She’ll shatter as soon as she gets hit!” Alistair said triumphantly as Diana got off of her.

“No, I won’t,” Kallian frowned as she stood up, dusted herself off, and kicked Alistair’s foot, “Diana is half my height and twice my bulk.”

“I think she’s a little more than half your height,” Alistair pointed out, “and a little more than twice your bulk.”

“He has a point, my dear Warden,” he remarked, “you’re short, and slender, even by Elven standards.”

“Just… shut up,” Kallian groaned planting her face into the table as they waited for dinner.

They finished dinner and Kallian… immediately vanished, though, he managed to catch sight of her leaving the inn, and decided to follow her. She was already climbing onto the roof of the inn, where she sat and stared at the sky, she seemed quite fond of gazing at the night sky, it made him remember what she’d said to Connor: _“some say we become stars when we die.”_ Did she stare at the sky remembering the people she’d lost?

“The moon glows brightly,  
The lake reflects its beauty,  
The stars dance and shine.”

He heard her click her tongue and mumble about how terrible it was before saying another as he climbed up:

“In the winter night,  
The moon’s light rises early,  
The lake reflects it.”

Poetry? She’s sitting on the roof reciting poetry?

“Ahhh… no that was bad too,” Kallian sighed continuing to stare up at the sky as he took a seat next to her, “why are you following me?”

“I have a question for you, my dear Warden,” he asked, “how well-versed are you in poetry? Antivan poetry specifically.”

“I have no knowledge of Antivan poetry,” Kallian replied finally turning to him, green eyes glinting in the darkness, “though I’m not all that familiar with poetry in general, to be completely honest, I was just playing around with words.”

“Trust me, you’ll know even less once I tell you this,” he chuckled, “it was recited to me, as I recall, by a rather wealthy target of mine. Let’s see…

The symphony I see in thee,  
It whispers songs to me.  
Songs of hot breath upon my neck,  
Songs of soft sighs by my head,  
Songs of nails upon my back,  
Songs of thee come to my bed.”

“…That was recited to you by a target?” Kallian tilted her head to the side, “it’s… borderline passable, I guess.”

“Oh, I know, I know. I couldn’t believe that she thought this would actually convince me to spare her. I had sex with her anyway, but that goes without saying, she still had to die,” he recounted, “the poem was amusing at the time, however, and thus I’ve always remembered it.”

“Are you… trying to seduce me with terrible erotic poetry?” Kallian furrowed her brows, “because I’m pretty sure you’ve already convinced me to let you live.”

“Hmmm… now that is a thought, isn’t it?” he asked, “would it work?”

“It… might, but it’d have to be actually good,” Kallian replied thoughtfully, “like…

Your lips on mine,  
Our bodies intertwine.

My name your prayer,  
Your name I savor.

Your hands upon my skin,  
M—”

He cut her off by covering her mouth with his hand. That was too much, especially since she had no plans of having sex with him at the moment, especially with all that happened earlier. Her eyes were gazing at him triumphantly. 

“I’ll have to keep that in mind. Personally, my preferred methods of seduction are a bit more… tactile,” he sighed removing his hand from her lips, “here I thought you might be cheered up by some naughty poetry. You simply look so… unhappy. Such an unflattering expression for such a lovely face.”

“You can stop with the flattery now,” Kallian sighed, “you have both your life and your freedom.”

“My dear, you’re the kind of woman that stokes the lust in men and other women alike, surely you know this and are playing with me,” he chuckled, “me, I tend to make the best of whatever situation I find myself in, stealing what moments I can. It’s served me well, most days. You might learn to do the same.”

“…And you call me cruel,” Kallian sighed, “and thanks for the advice, I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Or you could ignore my advice,” he laughed, he still couldn’t believe that this woman didn’t know her own charms, “considering where my brilliance has gotten me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind too,” Kallian replied.

“So, what were the poems you recited earlier?” he asked.

“Ahhhh… they were… hm,” Kallian pressed a finger to her chin in thought, “three-line poems that follow a syllabic format: five in the first line, seven in the second, and five in the last… I’ve never really been good with them, but it’s a fun word exercise, I suppose.”

“I see…” he said thoughtfully.

Silence filled the air, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, quite the opposite, actually. He didn’t know how comfortable it could be to simply exist in the same space as someone else, without feeling the need to replace the silence with conversation.

“Thinking about it… you must have quite a history,” Kallian mused, “with women, I mean.”

“This could be a sensitive topic, my dear Warden,” he quirked a brow at her, “are you sure you wish to voyage there?”

“That many, huh?” Kallian chuckled.

“As you wish. Let me start by saying that my history is varied, indeed,” he chuckled, “it has also not been restricted to women. Does that offend you?”

“If it did, I probably wouldn’t have kicked a few asses when people mocked my cousin, though, thinking back on it, she probably could have done it herself,” Kallian replied dryly, “maybe that’s why no one liked me… Ah well, whatever, she’s more important to me than my love life.”

He could imagine that, considering how cranky she gets when people insult people close to her. Like when that woman, Isolde, had insulted Alistair.

“Well, I grew up amongst whores, my dear Warden,” he replied, “sex is best when done well, and truly that is my only rule.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Kallian replied.

“Oh? Have you only had sex with people who are bad at it?” he asked.

“No, my experience with men is basically just you kissing me,” Kallian replied waving a sleeve around and he couldn’t believe his ears, “whoa, are you okay?”

“Never?” he asked grabbing her by the shoulders in shock, “you’ve never been with a man? Or woman?”

“Is that a problem?” Kallian asked in return before brandishing her fist with a smile, “because if it is I’m shoving you off this roof.”

“No… no, it’s just…” he trailed off with a sigh. In many ways, they were very similar, but in some ways, they were complete opposites. This was one of those ways, “it’s just hard to imagine you not having taken at least one or two men to your bed.”

“Do you want me to have?” Kallian chuckled wryly, before making a comment that made him grateful for it, “though you can also look at it this way, I suppose: no one was successful in forcing themselves on me.”

“Have there been many who tried?” he asked and she just smiled at him as if asking ‘what do you think?’.

Looks aside, there were many who would see a strong-willed woman like her and think that it would be fun breaking her in. He remembered her face when she’d mentioned that some people were wastes of space who didn’t deserve to so much as breathe. She knew those people existed as well, of course, she did. She was careful and considered her actions wisely: when she left the Alienage she’d dress as a man. Her strength and fighting style made even more sense now: she would have to use her opponents against themselves. If she couldn’t have armor or weapons, she’d need to make her own body a weapon in order to protect herself and others.

“So, which do you prefer?” Kallian asked, “women I’m guessing.”

“Do I prefer women? Yes… yes I believe I do,” he replied thoughtfully, “but you must understand that a certain open-mindedness is sought by the Crows in their recruits. For very good reasons.”

“I… yeah,” Kallian shuddered, “you’re not with the Crows anymore, though… so you get to be picky now.”

“Indeed, and nothing could please me more,” he replied, “this is a new path I am on, now. It would be interesting to see where it leads. Already it has been many new things… I cannot change my past, obviously, and I regret far more than the men and women I have been with, and if that is more than you can bear… well, then it is good we know now, yes?”

“Why’re you asking me if it’s more than I could bear?” Kallian quirked a brow at him, “though, you’ve clearly been through a lot… probably more than I can even imagine, especially with having had to show pain tolerance…”

She was thinking about the scene she intruded upon, where he’d been on that rack… which made him remember it.

“Ahh, it’s just old scars and nothing more which you see,” he replied, “ignore them as I do, and perhaps they’ll go away.”

“I don’t think it works like that,” Kallian replied wryly, “is my lack of experience more than you can bear, hm? Because if it’s too much of a pain feel free to give up.”

“Well, doesn’t that simply mean that I get to be your first?” he replied with a grin.

“If you can manage to… how did Alistair put it?” Kallian laughed, “woo? If you can figure out how to woo me, I guess you would.”

She wouldn’t say it, but he knew she had no intentions of having sex with him. Not out of disinterest, but out of resignation of her fate. They danced around the fact that they knew the other had wanted to die, or in her case, still wanted to die. Not willing to tell the other, not willing to speak of it. He might tell her one day, and on that day he’d ask her the same. Whether she indulged him or not, remained to be seen.

“I think it’s about time to head back inside since we’re heading to Denerim tomorrow,” Kallian said with a yawn and a stretch, “but… thanks, I am feeling a bit better now.”

“And I am glad to hear that,” he replied as he followed her off of the roof.

Perhaps he was on her mind more than he thought.

***

She needed to stop getting close to Zevran, like really, really needed to stop.

It wasn’t fair. Why was she out here doing all these things, when Shianni, Soris, and her Father were suffering in the Alienage?

She crawled into bed tiredly, already not looking forward to what she’ll face.

_Nelaros was glaring at her accusingly, she’d expected this._

_“You were the reason I died,” Nelaros snarled at her, “and now you’re interested in another man?”_

_“No, I’m not!” she cried wildly shaking her head, “I’m not!”_

_“Who knew you’d be such a loose woman?” Nelaros laughed darkly._

_“No! I—” she was cut off when the other her, the Masked Woman killed him._

_His gaze full of hatred, disgust, and disdain had stopped her from moving, kept her from acting._

_“Deny, deny, deny,” the Woman stated, “denying something is the only thing you know how to do… You know what we want.”_

_“I don’t want to!” she replied, “how could I want to!?”_

_“Come then, weak-minded fool that you are,” the Woman snarled, “how shall I kill you today?”_

_She grit her teeth, and limply defended herself._

_She… she didn’t want to live anymore… She needed…_

_She needed to die._

_But would he even want to reunite with her in the afterlife…? She didn’t deserve to, she knew that much…_

_She’d never deserved him._


	25. How the Cat and Her Companions Traveled to Denerim

The Circle had been in a state of disarray, which made her remember a story her Mother often spoke of angrily. So before they left Lake Calenhad, she wanted to bring something to attention.

“Kallian, I have a thought,” she said.

“Oh?” Kallian replied, “what’s on your mind?”

“We have an opportunity that I believe we should take advantage of,” she replied, “to the point: my Mother was once divested of a particular grimoire by a most annoying Templar hunter. It occurred long before I was born, but even today Flemeth speaks of the loss with great rage. With the Circle of Magi in such disarray, it occurs to me that this might be the perfect time to recover the tome from their possession, for surely it eventually ended up in their hands.”

“Oh? Is it… this one?” Kallian asked after rooting through her pack and pulling out a black grimoire and handing it to her.

“What is this? The grimoire?” she asked in shock, “ever since we discovered the condition of the mage’s tower, I had wondered if it might be recoverable… but I had yet to speak of it to you. How fortunate that you found it on your own…”

“It looked similar to the one I saw in Flemeth’s Hut,” Kallian grinned, “so I thought it might be related to her.”

Kallian hadn’t spent a long time in Flemeth’s hut, while conscious, so the fact that she’d taken in enough information to have seen that grimoire was a surprise. With her disarming smiles, and joyous laughter, ‘twas easy to forget just how observant she truly was, though of course, she would need to be. She fought without wearing armor, she had to know how many she fought against, and where they were coming from.

“You have my thanks,” she replied, “I will begin study of the tome immediately.”

“You’re welcome,” Kallian replied, “what do you hope to find within it?”

“Secrets, my Mother, has many of them, and this tome represents the one time that they were able to get away from her,” she replied, “I do not intend to squander this opportunity to learn more than Flemeth wished me to know. This should be… interesting.”

***

_“You were the reason I died, and now you’re interested in another man?”_

_“Who knew you’d be such a loose woman?”_

As she did her regular morning stretch routine, and shoved things in the pockets that lined the inside of her sleeves, she wished she could kill that fucking sloth demon all over again. 

Or at least punch him.

Brutalize him.

Beat him to a bloody pulp.

Rend him limb from limb with her bare hands.

Except probably not that one, she didn’t think her strength was enough for that.

That was a nightmare she never wanted to have to deal with, she’ll really have to step up her game… Though she didn’t really have any confidence in actually being able too. Especially since he’d followed her onto the roof of the inn they were staying at. He was just as nimble as she was, he could get to the places she could, of course, he could. Why was he making this so hard for her?

It would probably take them two weeks to get to Denerim, she would need to make sure to replenish her stock of make-up. Disguises were important for her and Alistair… She had her hat in her pack so it should be okay.

Leliana and Morrigan were discussing the differences in the stories about Flemeth that Leliana heard, and what Flemeth had told Morrigan.

“Alistair, what’s this?” Wynne asked holding up a filthy sock.

“It’s a sock?” Alistair replied.

“It’s a filthy sock,” Wynne frowned, “how did it find its way to my bedroll?”

“Maybe it likes you?” Alistair replied, “socks are sneaky like that. Anyway, it’s not mine.”

“It has your name stitched on it,” Wynne replied flatly.

“Oh… Ha, ha… ha… part of Templar training, back at the Chantry, the men were… always getting their socks mixed up,” Alistair replied, “anyway, uh, sorry about that. I’ll take it from you right now. One of my socks is feeling a little damp anyway. A change would be nice.”

“You’re going to put it on?!” she and Wynne cried out in unison, “it’s filthy!”

“And dry!” Alistair replied brightly, “we’re not exactly traveling in the lap of luxury here.”

“What hideous habits you’ve picked up,” Wynne sighed.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” she replied covering her mouth with her hand, “that’s so gross.”

“I knew one of your countrymen once, Elf,” Sten said looking at Zevran.

“Oh? Have you been to Antiva, then?” Zevran asked.

“No, until I came to Ferelden, I had never left the islands. She came to Seheron twice a year with the traders who bought spices from the northern jungle,” Sten explained, “only she among the traders would speak to the _antaam_. Questions about the rainforest, its depths, and the things to be seen there. We humored her. She was… an unfortunate soul.”

“Unfortunate in what way?” Zevran asked.

“She was a Crow, as you were. Sent to assassinate the _kithshoks_ , leaders of the army of Seheron, for the Tevinter Imperium,” Sten replied, “we knew this, and pitied her.”

“I’m surprised you did not simply slay her,” Zevran mused.

“There was no need. Her questions were meant to show her the way through the jungle towards our fortifications. And so one day, she snuck into the jungle to find her target,” Sten replied, “we found the pieces of her body in a tree, where Kallian’s kith, the jaguars, kept them for later. We had never told her that our _kithshoks_ were the ones who negotiated all trades to the port.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” she practically shouted, “so I like high places, sleep in trees when I don’t think the ground can be trusted, and sometimes hide things in trees so that others can’t get to them! I’m not _that_ much of a cat!”

“Elissa once mentioned that you were like a wild animal,” Alistair said speaking up, “in that someone would survive you unharmed unless they tried something stupid like trying to control you.”

“What’s with that?!” she replied assaulting Alistair with her sleeves, “so what if I’m a little more in touch with my animalistic instincts, that’s no reason to call me a wild animal!”

“Then she was a fool,” Zevran replied continuing his conversation, “that’s not very sympathetic, I’m afraid.”

“It was her ignorance we pitied, not her mistake,” Sten replied, “she believed we hoarded things we cared for as her own people do. We were sorry for her, that she thought only some people were important.”

“Though, you know, you surprised me yesterday,” Alistair noted, “you said a lot of profound things and didn’t ruin them by sounding like a cat.”

“Because I abide by T.P.O,” she replied.

“T.P.O?” Sten asked.

“Time! Place! Occasion!” she replied, “it wasn’t the time, place, nor the occasion. So, of course, I didn’t ruin it by sounding like a cat.”

“What kinds of things did she say?” Leliana asked.

“Hate begets hate, suffering begets suffering, violence begets violence, one should never answer one with the same,” she recounted, “all that does is perpetuate an unhealthy cycle, nya.”

“She also said that ‘you may be able to solve one problem with violence, but you sow the seeds for another’,” Alistair recounted, “and that ‘the true hero is one who conquers his own anger and hatred.’.”

“Nyah-nyooon,” she added.

“Nope, sorry,” Alistair stated, “but I’ve already memorized the non-ruined versions.”

“Damn,” she sighed.

“Why do you have to ruin your own words of wisdom with sounding like a cat?” Alistair asked.

“I have to balance myself out,” she replied, “I told you this.”

“Why do you need to balance yourself out?” Leliana asked.

“To truly understand the world, one must know the parts both the wise man and fool play in regards to the larger whole,” she replied, “wisdom can only truly be grasped by those who understand that without fools, there is no such thing as wisdom. In short: there are no wise men where there are no fools, mrow.”

“By the way, Kalli?” Alistair asked, “can I ask you a serious question?”

“I shall endeavor to give you a serious answer,” she replied.

“What kind of things do women like?” Alistair asked as she began folding a letter she’d written about how she’s a terrible person into a fish and tossing it into the fire.

“Depends on the woman,” she replied, “some women like flowers, some women are like me and hate receiving flowers. Some women like expensive gifts, some women rather have something made by hand. Some women simply like heartfelt gestures.”

“What kind of gift would you like to receive?” Alistair asked.

“Depends on who it’s from,” she replied off-handedly, “in general, I make it a rule not to accept free things from strangers, as well as a rule to not accept anything without knowing the intentions behind the gift.”

“And why would that be?” Morrigan asked.

“Listen up kids, Mother’s going to learn you an important lesson: there is nothing more expensive than something labeled as free,” she replied remembering a conversation she’d had with Shianni, “that’s how people trap you, you know? ‘I gave you this free thing, therefore you must do this for me.’ Often times, whatever it is that they ask for can be far more expensive than the thing you were given, mya.”

“You know, I’m surprised you actually gave me a serious answer,” Alistair remarked, “and not surprised you ruined your own lesson with sounding like a cat.”

“If I didn’t you’d think me an impostor,” she replied, “returning to the topic of gifts… I once knew someone whose standard for gifts was surrounded by its… edibility. As for something I would like to receive… Something I can use in my day-to-day life.”

“How very practical of you,” Morrigan replied.

“Well, there is that, too,” she laughed, “but… it’s also more like… I’ll think of that person every time I use it… not only that but it’ll make me feel as if they truly considered me. Though, I also appreciate just spending time together, y’know?”

***

Currently Alistair was staring at him with interest, and he was not sure to make of it yet.

“So those… designs you have all over your back,” Alistair finally said.

“They’re called tattoos,” he replied, “and I have them in many more places than just on my back, my friend.”

“Errr… right,” Alistair replied, “I hear that someone gets those by having needles put the ink under your skin?”

“A great many needles, amongst other things,” he replied, “yes, that would be true.”

“Didn’t that hurt?” Alistair asked.

“Ohhh, yes, yes,” he replied brightly, “but it is not so bad, in truth. If you like, I could give you one. I learned a bit of the art myself in Antiva.”

“I hear it’s worse over scars,” Kallian said speaking up, “getting tattoos, that is.”

“What are you hiding under there?” Leliana asked.

“My body,” Kallian answered, “that’s what clothes do.”

“Well, I don’t think I want one,” Alistair said.

“Come, it will just be a small one, perhaps the symbol of the Grey Wardens?” he mused, “something manly! Where are my needles?”

“Um… maybe some other time,” Alistair replied.

“So, my dear Warden,” he purred sliding into the seat next to her, “do you have any tattoos?”

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t,” Kallian replied, “I’ll never tell.”

Normally, he’d think that she did, but in his Warden’s case, it really could go either way. She loved her secrets and continued to shroud herself in more mystery than the Crows, giving them only small tastes of her experiences and such. His Warden was a rather clever and careful one. Thinking back to the conversation that was had a few days ago: _there’s nothing in this world more expensive than things that are labeled as free._ Growing up as she did, she had to learn to trust her own instincts, and regarding men… she needed to be able to see through to their intentions to protect herself from men who would like to force themselves on her, of men who would love to get her to owe them something in return for sexual favors…

Though, he wondered if she knew that she was doing a terrible job of trying to push him away.

“Must your sleeves be so long?” Wynne asked.

“Yes,” Kallian replied blankly, “because it suits my aesthetic, and I need to hide my tricks _somewhere_.”

“You don’t actually hide tricks up your sleeves, do you?” Alistair asked.

“Of course I do,” Kallian replied, “but I’ll never tell you what tricks they are.”

“Right, playful trickster,” Alistair sighed.

***

Her fellow red-head was doing a terrible job of trying to push Zevran away. It was almost funny just how bad she was at it, especially considering how the two seemed to be inexplicably drawn to each other. She wondered why Kallian put so much effort into trying to push him away, and why she didn’t simply allow herself to enjoy his company.

“Alistair! Grab your shield!” Kallian demanded.

“Huh? Why? Are we under attack?” Alistair asked in alarm.

“No, I just want you to send me flying,” Kallian replied as he went to grab his shield.

“Why?” Alistair asked.

“Training,” Kallian replied and they got into position and she launched herself up off of his shield, forced her body into a spin, and rolled to soften the impact of her landing, “again!”

“Why do you need to train?” Alistair asked as she launched herself up again.

She could see why Zevran had said she looked like she’d grown wings, especially with her sleeves.

“So that I won’t get dizzy, next time,” Kallian replied before launching herself back up into the sky.

They continued like that for quite some time, Kallian continuing to repeat the process.

“Okay! I’m done!” Alistair said breathing heavily.

“Aww… so soon?” Kallian replied pursing her lips.

“Soon? Kalli, you’ve been at it for a while,” she decided to point out.

“How are you so tired already?” Kallian asked.

“How are you not tired?” Alistair asked in return.

“Because I am efficient, no matter what I do, I don’t spend more energy than necessary,” Kallian replied, “I don’t waste a single breath, nor do I waste a single movement. I trust my body: I set an action in motion, and my body follows through… Forcing it to obey my every command just tires me out. No one can control me, because even I can barely control me… impulses are hard.”

“Wild animal…” Alistair commented and Kallian assaulted him with her sleeves.

There were many parts of Kallian that made it feel like she was someone who needed to be protected, despite the fact that Kallian was more than capable of not only defending herself but also others. She was probably the most dangerous out of all of them, and most of them agreed that if her skills and abilities were widely known, she would have found herself in high demand. Even Sten believed that if she were to convert to the Qun, she would have risen through the ranks fairly quickly. And yet the woman, herself, imagined herself to have lived a normal life in the Denerim Alienage.

It was honestly probably because of how pure she seemed to be.

***

Kallian held up her hand and then pressed a finger over her lips, and then gestured him to go to her.

“I recognize that man,” Kallian murmured quietly, “he was part of Cailan’s Honor Guard… Elric, I think.”

“Those men… they’re Bann Loren’s,” he replied quietly, “I think.”

“Probably a lackey of Loghain’s,” Kallian murmured, “we should help him.”

Except as soon Kallian had said that Bann Loren’s men stabbed Elric straight through, so she sprinted down the hill to end the soldiers in time for her to be able to potentially save the man.

Kallian knelt at Elric’s side, clicked her tongue, and cursed.

“It’s alright, thank you,” Elric said, “I… didn’t expect the Bann’s men to notice my escape so quickly. I tried to hide here in the woods, but there wasn’t time. And now I’m a dead man.”

“I’m sorry,” Kallian replied quietly, working with Wynne to buy him more time.

“You were there in Ostagar, you know how things went,” Elric said, “for me, it was either this, or die in some Darkspawn’s belly, or… or be hung as a deserter.”

“Yes, I recognized your face,” Kallian replied.

“You were there with the Grey Wardens, one of Duncan’s new recruits… I was to guard the King, he was my friend, understand?” Elric replied, “Maker, all that time in Bann Loren’s prison and I couldn’t stop thinking about all they suffered that one dark night at Ostagar…”

“It’s not your fault they died,” Kallian replied, “and we can’t all choose our deaths.”

“I know, even had Loghain’s men not turned their backs on us, the Darkspawn were too many,” Elric replied, “even Cailan, for all his bravado, knew there would be no victory at Ostagar…”

“I suspected as much,” Kallian sighed, “but we can’t all choose our deaths.”

“Kalli, we’re going to need to talk about this,” he piped up.

“No, perhaps not, but I’ve been given the chance to set things right, if it’s the likes of you who sees me to my final hour, perhaps things happen for a reason,” Elric replied, “the King entrusted me with the key to the royal arms chest, if anything were to happen to him, he said it was vital I deliver it to the Wardens.”

“Why didn’t he give it to Duncan?” he asked.

“He didn’t get the chance: Duncan was so busy with the new recruits and keeping Loghain at bay,” Elric replied, “whatever his reasoning, it’s me Cailan entrusted it to.”

“I… think I know it,” Kallian sighed.

“Kallian, we are DEFINITELY going to need to talk about this,” he repeated, “as for the royal arms chest— it’s where Cailan kept his Father’s sword, the one he always said he’d slay the Archdemon with.”

“More than that,” Elric replied, “there was a secret compartment where he kept documents concerning his dealings with Empress Celene and the Orlesians.”

“Do you still have this key?” Kallian asked.

“The Maker has a sense of humor, doesn’t he? I suppose it’s for the best, however,” Elric replied, “had I kept it, it would be in Bann Loren’s hands by now.”

“But you said Cailan entrusted it to you!” Wynne said in shock.

“I was afraid, I thought I would lose it on the battlefield, so I stashed it in the camp,” Elric explained, “please— it’s probably still there.”

“Hopefully the Darkspawn haven’t found it,” Kallian replied, she raised a hand to bite the nail of her thumb, but realized the state of her hands and stopped herself just in time.

“I hope not,” Elric replied, “would they know how to work the lock even if they did?”

“The Darkspawn are more cunning than we give them credit for, but the King trusted that lock with his secrets,” Wynne replied, “I’d guess that the contents of the chest are still intact.”

“The key’s behind a loose stone in the base of a statue,” Elric replied, “I’ll draw a map for you so you’ll know where to search.”

“You’ll be taking me along, won’t you?” he said as Elric drew a map, “call me sentimental, but I left behind some Darkspawn that really deserve a sword through the middle.”

“The events at Ostagar still haunt my thoughts,” Wynne agreed, “if that is where we are headed, I would like to accompany you.”

“It is vital that the King’s documents do not fall into the wrong hands, as for Maric’s sword, it is too powerful to be pawed at by those monsters. Same for the King’s other arms and armor,” Elric nodded, “and… and if you happen to find Cailan’s body, see it off. He was our King, he shouldn’t be left to rot amidst the Darkspawn’s filth.”

“Of course,” he replied.

“Thank…you…” Elric said with the last of his breath.

“Rest well,” Kallian said.

They saw him laid to rest, and then he turned to his fellow Grey Warden.

“Fess up.”

“Cailan knew more than he let on, he kept saying that it wasn’t a true Blight, but I think… he might have been testing Loghain,” Kallian sighed, “he tested me too.”

“Tested?” he asked.

“Integrity of Character… and if he had Duncan keeping Loghain busy,” Kallian sighed crossing her arms and closing her eyes in thought, “he might have had an inkling that Loghain might betray him, which might also be why he didn’t give the key to Duncan.”

Kallian leaned against a tree and closed her eyes.

“What are you doing?” he quirked a brow.

“I’m chasing some thoughts around. Gimme a sec,” Kallian replied and opened her eyes after a few minutes, “heyyyy, Alistair, buddyyyyyyy, how would you like to be King?”

“What?! Not at all!” he replied in alarm, “we talked about this!”

“I think… I think Cailan might have wanted you to survive Ostagar… and be King,” Kallian replied looking to the side, “sending you to the Tower of Ishal, might have been his contingency plan in case Loghain _did_ betray him… He probably thought your chances of survival were higher if I went along with you as well.”

“Why?” he asked.

“I… uh… I’m like… super strong!” Kallian panicked a bit and then covered her face with both her hands and then tried again, “I have some circumstances, that likely might have caused him to think your chances of survival were higher with me.”

“Circumstances?” Zevran asked.

“It doesn’t matter! We survived! Contingency plan successful! Huzzah!” Kallian replied, “point is: I think Cailan saw through Loghain, to an extent, and to make sure Theirin blood stays on the throne, he wanted to secure your survival.”

“Are you ever going to talk about how you were recruited?” he sighed.

“Maybe when it doesn’t piss me off as much,” Kallian sighed tiredly, “but back to the topic at hand: all of that’s merely conjecture.”

“You said Cailan wanted me out of the Battle, right?” he asked and she nodded, “you… might be right.”

“And before you get pouty with me,” Kallian said holding her hands up, “I already said I don’t like saying things I’m not sure of… and I’d already mentioned that I wondered if he knew Loghain was going to double-cross him. So! To an extent, this is just something I already had a feeling about and have reported before! Though, I just remembered that during the council… my instincts were telling me something bad was going to happen.”

“…Wild animal,” he said flatly.

“Roaaaarrrrr,” Kallian replied.

“No sleeve assault?”

“I have some extra things in there today,” Kallian replied waving her sleeve around, “it might kill you.”

“What _are_ you hiding under there?!” he asked in alarm.

“What aren’t I hiding under here?” Kallian asked in return, “no one knows, except for me. And I’ll never tell, myoooow.”

***

Another week until they got to Denerim and they decided to stop at a village, and after securing a few rooms at one of the inns, she bought materials to make make-up, haggled for wares, helped Bodahn sell things.

She had so much money, it was uncomfortable. She kept giving it away to beggars, but it kept increasing anyway. She’ll put some aside to leave for Shianni…

In one week she’ll be able to get that message to Shianni… She missed her so much… 

Bitch-tits better not have gotten herself killed.

_The highest goodness resembles water_  
_Water greatly benefits myriad things without contention_  
_It stays in places that people dislike_  
_Therefore it is similar to the Way_  
_Dwelling with the right location_  
_Feeling with great depth_  
_Giving with great kindness_  
_Speaking with great integrity_  
_Governing with great administration_  
_Handling with great capability_  
_Moving with great timing_  
_Because it does not contend_  
_It is therefore beyond reproach._

The others were doing… something, and it’s been a while since she hadn’t been around them. Honestly, it was weird, and it was also weird that it was weird. Not having Zevran near her was… she didn’t know how to feel about the fact that it was weird, as well as a little lonely. Disgusted with herself, most likely. Especially considering those hate-filled eyes. Eyes filled with scorn, disdain, and disgust gazing at her from someone she was supposed to be happily married to. She placed a copper bit on the tavern table held it vertically with her finger and flicked it with her other hand sending it spinning. A hand slammed down on the table on top of her spinning coin, and her eyes followed the hand up to its owner.

A group of men were grinning down at her, she could see their intentions on their faces.

It’s been a while since this happened, so long, in fact, that she’d almost forgotten that this was a thing that happened. She kicked out from the table and ran for the entrance of the tavern. If a fight must be met, she’d rather it be done outside, where people won’t be inconvenienced as much.

She wondered what it said about her that this was the most normal thing to have happened to her in months.

As well as the fact that she found it refreshing.

***

There was a commotion around the inn they were staying at, and curious he went to see. His Warden was flowing out of the attacks and grabs of a group of men, her face tinged with nothing more than boredom. People were attacking his Warden? He clicked his tongue, why did they leave her alone? She’d told him people had tried to attack her before, tried to force themselves on her. Of course, if they see a lone Elven woman like her, they’d capitalize on the situation. His hands went to his daggers as she noticed him, and her eyes widened in surprise. She had neither her weapons nor her gloves, but as he was about to join the fray she grabbed one of them and bent his arm unnaturally, and he _screamed_.

“I wonder just who gave you permission to touch me, hmm? You know… if I put juuuuuust a little more pressure here…” Kallian’s voice came out sweetly, and her words were punctuated by another cry of pain, “I can break your arm in a way it won’t recover from, you know?”

“You bitch!” Another Man swung at her and she’d shoved the first man at him, as she seemed to regard them with disgust.

And they seemed to realize that what they were looking at, was a dangerous beast staring down at its prey.

_“Elissa once mentioned that you were like a wild animal, in that someone would survive you unharmed unless they did something stupid like try to control you.”_

“Tell you what, you take him and leave, we can leave this here, hm?” Kallian replied with a smile, “because quite frankly: you disgust me. Get out of my sight.”

They took the chance to yell something derogatory and ran.

They probably didn’t even know that she’d just saved their lives because he was one step away from killing the lot of them.

“Kalli! Are you okay?” Leliana said running up to her.

“Of course I am,” Kallian replied, “I’m not the one who almost had my arm broken.”

“You know, my dear Warden,” he said sidling up to her side, “I would have just killed them, in fact, I was just about to.”

“Well, I’m not you, and I’m not going to kill someone in a space this open,” Kallian replied flatly, “and I knew you were going to.”

“What happened?!” Alistair asked.

“Kalli got attacked!” Leliana answered.

“Are you okay?!” Alistair asked turning to Kallian.

“As much as I appreciate the sentiment,” Kallian replied after opening and closing her mouth a few times, “this is nothing I haven’t experienced before, nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

“Were you scared?” Alistair asked.

“Alistair… we fought Darkspawn, I got my shit kicked in by a dozen Darkspawn, was in a coma for three weeks, dealt with Loghain’s men, defended Redcliffe, faced off against demons and abominations,” Kallian counted off her fingers, “punched a sloth demon in the face, saved the Circle of Magi at Kinloch Hold… _and you’re asking me if a few ruffians scared me?"_

“Well… when you put it that way,” Alistair sighed.

“I think at the end they were more afraid of her,” he mused, “than she was of them.”

“That was the idea,” Kallian replied with a grin.

“Did something happen?” Wynne asked.

“Kalli was attacked!” Alistair answered and Kallian’s hand covered her face with a sigh.

“You know Alistair,” Kallian sighed, “I was attacked on the way to Ostagar from Denerim quite often.”

“What?! Didn’t Duncan stop them?” Alistair asked in shock.

“I’m sure he tried but… it ended before he got there…” Kallian looked to the side trailing off, “as in, I finished it with one hit, strike at the carotid artery, vitals, pressure points… with a chop, a jab, a fist, a palm strike, an elbow, a kick, a knee… Eventually, you send enough of a message that attacking you is a matter of life and death.”

“Can’t you just accept that we’re worried?” Wynne asked with a sigh.

“No, because it’s weird. I’m not used to being fussed over, I’m used to being the one who fusses over,” Kallian replied bluntly before trotting off back to the tavern, “so, it’s more like, it’s so weird I don’t know how to react.”

“Of course we’re worried anyway,” Leliana sighed following her into the tavern, “you have no weapons.”

“Hm? Who said I don’t have weapons?” Kallian asked.

“We can very clearly see that you don’t,” Alistair pointed out.

“I told you right?” Kallian replied with a coy smile as she took a seat back at the table she’d been at, “I have a few tricks up my sleeves.”

They really should never have left her on her own, especially in a tavern in a village full of Humans, he could tell that the others were thinking the same. The Crows recruit Elves because Humans find them pleasing to look at, he knows this, and he still left her alone.

“What a pain… Alistair, if it were just you and I, they would ask if they could ‘borrow your whore’ which would piss me off to a degree I haven’t felt in a long time. If it were just Leliana and I, or even Wynne and I, they would attack anyway, same goes for Zevran and everyone else,” Kallian rolled her eyes with a sigh, “those guys, were _too stupid_ to think of the consequences, and consider the fact that they were attacking someone they had no chance of winning against.”

“How many times have you had to deal with that?” he asked with a sigh.

“Can’t a woman have her secrets in peace?” Kallian grumbled.

“How many secrets do you need to have?” he asked in return.

“All of them,” Kallian replied bluntly, before standing to skip out of the tavern with a hum, “I’m going to get some fresh air, and don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“When it comes down to it,” Wynne sighed, “she simply does as she pleases, doesn’t she?”

“Isn’t that part of what makes her a cat?” Alistair asked in return as he stood to follow.

“Surprisingly, Kallian lives, breathes, acts, and speaks according to her own code of honor,” Sten stated, “it is something ingrained into her mind, body, and soul, she knows herself well and trusts that her instincts and morals will stay steady and never waver.”

“Do we even know how old she is?” Alistair asked as he left the tavern.

What _do_ they know about his Warden? 

Her Father was a well-respected servant, and her Mother trained her since she was four, she loved her family. She’d lived in the Denerim Alienage suffering from poverty and oppression. No one could traverse Denerim as she could. She had an alarming amount of skills, she had experience as an apothecary and a healer, to the point of suffering from the Apothecaries Crux. She loved philosophy…

Shame, really, that she was already long gone by the time he’d made it out of the tavern.

***

It’s been a while since she hunted like this, though she had no back alleys to lead them through, no gangs to pit them against. She was leading them on a merry chase anyway, further and further away from the village, where she could pin their deaths on the local wildlife or something. Her gloves were already on, she only ever waved the sleeve of her right hand around, they never knew what was in the sleeve of her left, and since she didn’t wear weapons out in the open in villages… she tended to pack something pretty mean in there when they were in them. It was the reason she always made the sleeve on her left thicker and sturdier.

Not slow enough to get caught, not fast enough for them to lose interest. Just right… There were more of them this time, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle, she did have tricks up her sleeve, after all. She was also more battle-hardened than before, more experienced in fighting than before.

She noticed movement in the darkness up ahead, and her brain screamed _Deus ex Darkspawn_.

Ah, that’s right, they could probably sense her, and the fact that she was alone.

Well, that would work as well, she’ll just clean up the leftovers. With that thought, she leapt out of reach into the safety of a friendly tree and moved away from an archers range as she crouched and watched the show. A hand on the handle of the chain in one of the pockets on the inside of her sleeves. For masters of _wushu_ styles, there were no weapons that could not be accommodated, which was super nifty, because it meant that in becoming a master of her style, she simultaneously became a master of weaponry. Though, shovels were still out of bounds for her… because it felt weird, she wasn’t really comfortable with two-handed weapons. They felt weird, and she liked having both hands free to do their own thing, she didn’t like having to devote two hands to a single weapon.

She yanked the thick weighted nail of her nine-section whip chain out of the skull of the last Darkspawn, did a few rotations, to clean the blood, and returned it to the pocket in her sleeve. She couldn’t do double whip chains, that one was always out of her league, in either lifetime. But still, a single whip chain was good enough for her, she probably couldn’t stand carrying two in her sleeves anyway. They were kind of heavy.

Thinking about it, she was a little surprised that Zevran hadn’t followed her, and it made her conflicted.

Did she want him to follow her or not? Her thoughts and emotions were getting mixed up, and she didn’t like it. She needed to stop letting him get to her like this, she knew that it could only end in tragedy, but it was hard. It felt comfortable, it felt right, that this was how things were supposed to be…

Actually, wasn’t she alluded to a fated one? Oh dear… Then this was especially not good, on so many levels. She can’t, not after everything, not with the weight of her past on her, she didn’t deserve anything more than what would happen to her once the Blight was over: death. She was just so tired of everything. Of things not making sense, of things weirding her out, of how her touch corrupted and tainted everything. And she was scared, scared of losing herself, scared of being pushed past her limits again and instead of a quick fleeting snap, she’d end up with a larger snap that completely changed her entire personality and outlook into something gnarled and twisted. In becoming someone who relished and found joy in death, destruction, and mayhem. In becoming someone who thought the world a lost cause anyway and sought its destruction. It worried her, becoming someone who fed off of the thrill of battle, the thrill of the kill. She already had an obsession with things like this: hunting those who preyed on others, and that was another reason she needed to be put down. She didn’t want to become someone like that.

Her sanity was at stake, and currently under constant strain. If she hadn’t lived the life she had, she would have surely become a deranged murderer driven to insanity by everything that’s happened. If she hadn’t experienced everything she had if she hadn’t gone through the hardships she had… She definitely would have. As it was, she was already denying parts of herself, she was already trying to pretend it wasn’t there, and it was attacking her in earnest.

She checked herself over to make sure there was no blood on her and began skipping back to the inn, leaving the scene of carnage behind her without so much as a second thought. She’d used a long-range weapon so that she wouldn’t have to explain why she was covered in blood later, but still, hunting on her own like this felt like a greeting with an old friend. 

It made sense to her, it was normal, and in a world where nothing made sense anymore…

She loved it.

***

They were near the Brecilian Forest, about a day away from Denerim, when they were attacked by a group of people, and just as she had done with Zevran, Kallian isolated their leader and knocked him out at the beginning of the fight. Kallian always had a good eye, she would have made an excellent bard in the Orlesian courts, and she agreed with Zevran’s observation that she would have also made a good assassin.

“There’s one still alive,” Alistair pointed out.

“Of course there is, he is no common bandit, none of them were. Their weapons and armor are of fine make, and they are well-trained,” she replied and Kallian snapped her fingers into a thumbs up, as she turned to the downed man waking up, “you know what I am talking about, don’t you? Who are you?”

“Someone who regrets taking you on, was told it would be an easy job,” the Man coughed, “kill the little-red-haired girl, deal with the others as we pleased.”

“They sent more assassins after us?” Kallian grumbled, “why am I always the indicator? Oh, right because they think I’m more dangerous than Alistair.”

“No, not you,” the Man replied.

“Me?” she replied in shock, “you came to kill me?”

“Who?” Kallian asked coldly grabbing the man by the neck.

“It don’t pay to ask why someone wants someone else dead, I just need to know what to do, and where to get my money,” the Man coughed and Kallian dropped him with a roll of her eyes, “ha, money… I’ll be lucky to get away with my life, it seems… maybe we could work something out? You’ll like the idea.”

She really was a completely different person both in battle and in situations like these.

“We already have enough assassin’s,” Zevran commented.

“Speak quickly,” she demanded.

“I’ve no real quarrel with you,” the Man said rubbing his throat where Kallian had grabbed him, “wasn’t me that wanted you dead, but I know how you can find the one who does.”

“Your life for information, then,” she replied, his eyes kept flicking over to Kallian, and it wasn’t out of a desire to kill her.

It was out of fear.

Even Zevran had kept a wary eye on her when they’d met, and she didn’t blame either of them. The woman was a master of intimidation, something that was easy to forget because of how different she was both on and off the battlefield, especially with her disarming smiles, calmness, and compassion.

“I have some directions written down on how to get to the house,” the Man said handing her a note, “it’s in Denerim. Here… it’s the best I can do.”

“Thank you, now leave,” she glared and Kallian waved a dismissive hand at him, eyes already closed, “I never want to see you again.”

“Don’t worry,” the Man replied limping away, “I’ll not trouble you no more.”

“It’s Marjolaine,” she sighed, “it has to be.”

“Why now?” Kallian asked.

“Maybe someone saw me,” she replied, “or maybe she’s finally found me and wants to finish what she started.”

“What do you want to do?” Kallian asked.

“She needs to answer for what she’s done to me,” she stated, “when we get to Denerim, I would like to seek her out.”

“Can do,” Kallian nodded.

“Perhaps it’s time to settle this score for good,” she nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Tao Te Ching Chapter Eight_


	26. How the Cat Returned to Denerim

Shianni was still moping about despondently, still blaming herself for Kallian’s death, and no one wanted to push her on it. She was losing weight, wasn’t eating right…

“Shianni,” he said gently, “Kalli wouldn’t want you to continue to blame yourself like this.”

“What does it matter what Kalli would want anymore!? She’s not— she’s not…” Shianni glared at him before tears began welling up in her eyes again, “I told myself… I told myself that this time I wouldn’t lose my family… That this time I’d protect them… But now— now— and it’s all my fault!”

“It’s not, Shianni,” he replied softly trying to keep the tears from his own eyes, “you heard what both Uncle and Elder said: Duncan was going to conscript her anyway… He’d come here specifically to conscript her.”

“But he wouldn’t have had the chance to if I hadn’t—” Shianni clicked her tongue and cut herself off before leaving. 

He decided to give her space, she was still working through her own grief and self-hatred.

***

She dreamt of the Archdemon last night, and that was one of the better dreams she’d had in a long time…

She wondered what it said about her that she’d rather dream about the Blight than regular dreams, as she stared at her box of weaponry. Trying to figure out which weapon would be best to shove in her sleeve while in Denerim. She could do the whip chain again, she supposed; but that one was better when fighting on her own since then she didn’t have to worry about accidentally killing people on her own side. So that was out. Two of her daggers should be fine since they were specifically the right length to not show… She’d been collecting weapons ever since they met Loghain’s men in Lothering, looking for things to hide in her sleeves just in case they were attacked again.

Then again, she might be able to lose Leliana and Zevran, so maybe she should pack it anyway… Decisions, decisions… She only had so much space in her sleeves. She really wanted to use it, it was her new toy, but space… but argghhh… cramped areas… but chain… but…

She never claimed to be the smartest woman, just not the stupidest.

“Oi, wake up,” she said hitting Alistair, “I have to put your face on.”

“Mmm… what?” Alistair replied groggily, “did something happen to my face?”

“Not yet, we need something to,” she replied, “go wash it so I can get to work.”

While he did that, she began putting another face on, making her look more boyish, with freckles. She arranged her hair into a different bun, one that would allow all of it to hide under her hat. When Alistair came back, she began putting a different face on him as well.

“Is this necessary?” Alistair asked as she had him close her eyes.

“We’re wanted people and Loghain will likely have more people on the lookout for us in Denerim,” she stated, “so yes, disguises are necessary.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here to think of these things for me,” Alistair replied.

“I am a master tactician,” she replied and then changed his hairstyle as well.

She was still waiting for someone to call her out on the fact that she _wasn’t_ actually a master tactician. She was also still waiting for someone to notice her bandages.

“You’re really good at this,” Leliana said.

“Years of experience,” she replied after turning him into a completely different looking person, and then put the finishing touches on her own face, “you should come up with a different name.”

“Do you have any suggestions?” Alistair asked while she was doing some vocal exercises.

“I’m super bad at names, so just think of some random name, like Darrian or something,” she replied finally finding the voice that went with this face, “by the way, the name that goes with this face is Robin.”

“Darrian it is,” Alistair replied, “and why do you have years of practice?”

“I… had a wild childhood,” she answered.

They entered the city without any issue, and she stared at the three addresses she had in her hand as she led them to one of the nicer but lesser-known inns within the city, Denerim was her territory, it would always be her territory. Hopefully, she won’t get kicked out of the city by the City Guard again. She sat at a table in the tavern and thought about the things they needed to get done while in Denerim, looking down at the addresses written in front of her. She also needed to sneak into the Alienage and also find a bookstore.

She wondered how the mice have played while the cat was away.

Now then, what to do first? Goldanna, get the most unpleasant one out of the way first… Especially since he’ll probably pout about it for a bit. Then Marjolaine and tomorrow morning they can go to Brother Genitivi’s.

She shuddered as she remembered creepy Goldanna…

“They say you can get anything here,” Alistair commented, “I once got pick-pocketed.”

“I wonder if it was by Daveth,” she mused.

“Ah, the bustle of a market district!” Zevran grinned, “the pickpocket’s home away from home!”

“Or maybe it was Zevran,” Alistair frowned.

“Nah, he’s from Antiva,” she waved a sleeve around, “why would he come here just to pickpocket people?”

“I bought a confection of spun sugar here once, it got stuck in my hair,” Leliana recounted, “made it hard to comb out, but it was very tasty for a few days.”

Cotton candy?! This world has cotton candy?! AND SHE DIDN’T KNOW!?

“I… have never seen such a collection of merchants and people before,” Morrigan said in awe, “‘tis always so?”

“Keep track of your purse though,” she cautioned, “otherwise people like Zevran will take them.”

A caretaker, she felt like a caretaker. Or a parent trying to supervise her children as they ran through the market.

“I once had my portrait painted by an artist in the square here,” Wynne commented, “it wasn’t very good.”

Children ran up to Diana but she huffed and completely ignored them, like a brat.

“Those are too small,” Sten commented, “send them back to the priests for more training.”

If she weren’t in the middle of the Denerim Market, she would totally be asking him about that. Practically everyone went to go explore on their own, so she brought Alistair to a place where there would be an unpleasant meeting.

“That’s… my sister’s house, I’m almost sure of it, this is… yes, this is the right address,” Alistair babbled, “she could be inside, could we… go and see?”

“Yeah, knock yourself out,” she replied with a wave to go find a bookstore and Alistair stopped her, with a hand on her shoulder, “…wouldn’t you rather meet her on your own?”

“Do I seem a little nervous? I am. I really don’t know what to expect. I’d like you to be there with me if you’re willing,” Alistair babbled quickly, “or we could… leave, I suppose. We really don’t have time to pay a visit, do we? Maybe we should go.”

She really didn’t have an interest in seeing Alistair get his hopes and dreams destroyed, but he did need to learn this lesson.

“Alright,” she sighed, “I’ll be your emotional support.”

“Will she even know who I am? Does she even know I exist?” Alistair said with bright-eyed innocence, “my sister, that sounds very strange… ‘sister’. ‘Siiiiiiisssssterrrrrrr’. Hmmm… now I’m babbling. Maybe we should go. Let’s go. Let’s just… go.”

Alistair turned his back on her to knock on the door and she was feeling conflicted, she was about to watch the death of a sweet innocent creature.

She wished she could turn into a cat again and run away. She was also regretting that decision to shove both the chain and the dagger into her sleeve. It was hard controlling how fucking bulky it all was, not only that, but it was _heavy_. Her shoulder was dying, good thing she was right hand dominant in this life. She should add some seams to help distribute the weight across her shoulders better.

Seriously, why did she go with both?

***

He was a mess of nerves, he was about to meet his siiiiiisssssssteeeeeeer. It was still hard to get the word to process through his head. Thankfully, Kallian had agreed to be his emotional support, honestly, where would he be without her? Dead from Loghain, most likely, or would he even have survived the Tower of Ishal if she hadn’t been around? The chances of that were slim…

He might be relying on her too much.

Someone said to enter so they did.

“Errrr… hello?” he called out.

“Eh? You have linens to wash? I charge three bits on the bundle, you won’t find better,” Goldanna replied, “and don’t trust what that Natalia woman tells you either, she’s foreign and she’ll rob you blind.”

“I’m… not here to have any was done,” he felt his heart in his throat, “my name’s Alistair, and I’m… well, this may sound sort of strange, but are you Goldanna? If so, I suppose I’m your brother.”

“My what? I am Goldanna, yes,” Goldanna narrowed her eyes at him, “how do you know my name? What kind of tomfoolery are you folk up to?”

“Maybe I should leave you two alone, yeah?” Kallian said.

“No! No, don’t go! I… please, stay for now,” he said quickly, “look, our Mother… she worked as a servant in Redcliffe Castle a long time ago, before she died. Do you know about that? She—”

“You! I knew it! They told me you was dead!” Goldanna replied cutting him off, “they told me the babe was dead along with Mother, but I knew they was lying!”

“They told you I was dead?” he asked in alarm, “who? Who told you that?”

“Them’s at the castle! I told them the babe was the King’s, and they said he was dead,” Goldanna replied, “gave me a coin to shut my mouth and sent me on my way! I knew it!”

“I’m sorry, I… didn’t know that,” he replied, “the babe didn’t die. I’m him… I’m… your brother.”

“For all the good it does me! You killed Mother, you did, and I’ve had to scrape by all this time?” Goldanna scoffed, “that coin didn’t last long, and when I went back they ran me off!”

 _This_ was his sister? _This?_

“That’s hardly Alistair’s fault,” Kallian muttered.

“And who in the Maker’s name are you?” Goldanna turned her scowl on Kallian, “some Elf to follow him about and carry his riches for him?”

“Me? I’m no one of—” Kallian cut herself off.

She was probably going to claim to be an Elven servant of no consequence.

“Hey! Don’t speak to her that way!” he said speaking up, “she’s my friend and a Grey Warden! Just like me!”

“Ooooohhh, I see, a prince and a Grey Warden, too. Well, who am I to think poorly of someone so high and mighty compared to me?” Goldanna rolled her eyes, “I don’t know you, boy. Your royal Father forced himself on my Mother and took her away from me, and what do I got to show for it? Nothing. They tricked me good! I should have told everyone! I got five mouths to feed, and unless you can help with that, I got less than no use for you.”

“I… I’m sorry,” he trailed off, “I… I don’t know what to say…”

“All she wants is your money,” Kallian replied, “which we don’t have a lot of.”

“Yes, it really seems that way, doesn’t it?” he sighed, “I wasn’t expecting my sister to be so… I’m starting to wonder why I came.”

“I don’t know why you came, either, or what you expected to find,” Goldanna glowered, “but it isn’t here! Now get out of my house, the both of you!”

“Sorry for bothering you,” he said before pushing Kallian out the door.

He sighed once they were outside and covered his face with his hands, trying to process what just happened. Kallian pat him on the head, careful not to mess up the hairstyle she’d given him.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have told her our occupations,” Kallian said finally, “what if she tries to sell that info to Loghain?”

“Your… skills should help with that, right?” he sighed heavily deciding to not mention they were in disguise, “and Loghain probably already knows.”

“So, Darrian,” Kallian said as they walked back to the inn they were staying at.

“Well… that was… not what I expected, to put it lightly,” he sighed, “this is the family I’ve been wondering about all my life? That _shrew_ is my sister? I can’t believe it.”

“Not all family members are great,” Kallian replied wryly.

“I… I guess I was just expecting her to accept me without question,” he replied despondently, “isn’t that what family is supposed to do? I… I feel like a complete idiot.”

“Most people are just out for themselves, Darrian,” Kallian stated, “in fact, most Humans I’ve encountered are like that… you should take this as a learning experience. There are all sorts of assholes in the world, and I’m not always going to be here to give you emotional support to get through them. Some people… just can’t be reasoned with.”

“Yes… I suppose you’re right, I should,” he sighed, “I’ll head back to the inn first… I… want to be alone for now.”

“Alright,” Kallian replied and he gave her a wave before he walked off, “I have some errands I need to get through, so I’ll talk to you later.”

***

Before they had entered Alistair’s sister’s house. His Warden had looked… conflicted while Alistair had his back turned to her, and when they came out, she still looked conflicted and Alistair looked depressed.

He could guess what happened.

“You knew it was going to happen like that, didn’t you, my dear?” he said walking up to her as she watched Alistair leave.

“It was like watching a tiny animal get slaughtered,” Kallian sighed a hand to her face, “but… yes… even I’ve heard of Goldanna… I thought it’d be a good learning experience for him. He needs to learn how to stand on his own… still doesn’t feel good though.”

She was already trying to prepare him for the day she wouldn’t be around anymore… How kind, his Warden was, even as she moved towards her own destruction she cared for others.

What can he do to stop her? What could he do or say to get her to stray from her path? Why was she so adamant on seeking her own death? He probably wouldn’t be able to do anything unless he got to the bottom of this, until he knew the reason she was set on ending herself. But she also seemed dead set on keeping her secrets, secret.

No pun intended.

“So, my dear,” he said, it was hard not calling her his dear Warden, “what do you have intended for the rest of the day?”

“Find Leli, confront Marjolaine?” Kallian shrugged walking off already, “do some shopping? Stuff? Things? Nya?”

“Do you mind if I join you then?” he asked with a grin.

“What, like a date? I didn’t think you were the type… then again I suppose we have gone on them,” Kallian huffed a laugh, “under the night sky, though it was really just me wandering off and you following… You’re free to do as you like.”

For a split second, his brain stopped working at hearing the word ‘date’, and he did have a tendency to seek her out. Though he was unable to in the last village they were in, and when she’d returned to the inn, there was no blood on her, she didn’t look roughed up, and she was in a good mood.

Actually… why _was_ he so fascinated by her? Why _did_ he continually seek her out?

Even he didn’t know anymore, though, perhaps he didn’t need to. 

Just existing in the same space was comfortable, and perhaps that’s all he needed to know.

“Well, then,” he replied with a grin, “where to?”

“I dunno, where do you think Leli is?” Kallian replied, “though I have some other errands I’d like to run as well.”

“Oh?” he replied following her into an accessory shop where she began perusing hair ribbons, she did seem to like hair accessories and such.

Though currently, her hair was stuffed under a hat.

_“As for something I would like to receive… Something I can use in my day-to-day life.”_

_“It’s also more like… I’ll think of that person every time I use it… not only that, but it’ll make me feel as if they truly considered me. Though, I also appreciate just spending time together, y’know?”_

He saw a hairpin that would suit her, while she was comparing two hair ribbons with a frown, and on impulse, he bought it, though she wouldn’t have much use for it at the moment.

***

“Ah, Leli,” Kallian said when she noticed her perusing shoes, “I was looking for you.”

“Oh? I was certain you two were on a date,” she replied, and Kallian snorted.

“Didn’t you want to seek out Marjolaine?” Kallian asked.

“She might have mercenaries and a trap,” she cautioned as they began walking towards the address on the note, “perhaps you should arm yourself?”

“I’ll be fine,” Kallian replied, “I assure you, I am well-armed.”

“I am as well,” Zevran nodded, “though, I am curious to see what weapons you’re carrying on you.”

“Nothing special, really,” Kallian replied waving her sleeve around.

When they opened the door they were attacked by two Qunari guards, and Kallian’s sleeves completely covered her hands for a split second before her hands re-emerged with a dagger in each one that she used to parry an attack. Before stepping to the side and slicing off one of their heads.

“See, nothing special,” Kallian commented, “just daggers.”

“Is that why you have long sleeves?” she asked.

“Mmm… it didn’t start that way,” Kallian replied, “but… this and that happened so I decided to have fun with it.”

“What else are you hiding under there?” Zevran asked with a raised brow.

“Stuff and things,” Kallian replied before kicking in the next door.

And there she was wearing the same smile she wore two years ago.

“Leliana! So lovely to see you again, my dear,” Marjolaine said

“Spare me the pleasantries,” she glared, “I know you’re—”

“Oh, you must excuse the shabby accommodations… I try to be a good host, but you see what I have to work with?” Marjolaine groaned, “this country smells like wet dog. Everywhere. I cannot get the smell out. Even now its is in my hair, my clothes… ugh.”

Kallian literally spent a lot of time with her dog, and never smelled of either dog or wet dog, though she found it cute how Diana was angrily growling.

“Can we please just cut straight to the point?” Kallian asked coldly, “why did you send assassins after Leliana?”

“So business-like, your companion,” Marjolaine sighed, attempting to ignore the aura of intimidation radiating off of Kallian in waves. 

When Kallian was on your side, one couldn’t help but feel as though they had an army behind them. Though Kallian practically was a one-woman army. For someone who was neither raised for it nor found enjoyment in it, Kallian’s knack for combat had always bordered on the obscene.

“You framed me, had me caught and tortured, I thought that in Ferelden, I would be free of you, but it seems I am not,” she glowered, “what happened to make you hate me so? Why do you want me dead so badly?”

“Dead? Nonsense, I know you, my Leliana, I know what you are capable of. Four, five men… you can dispatch easily,” Marjolaine replied a wary eye on Kallian, “they were sent to give you cause to come to me, and see? Here you are.”

“Mmhmm,” Kallian commented off-handedly already knowing she was lying, “you could have just sent a letter.”

“What are you up to, Marjolaine?” she glared, “why are you in Ferelden?”

“In truth? You have knowledge that you can use against me. For my own safety, I cannot let you be,” Marjolaine ranted, “did you think I did not know where you were? Did you think I would not watch my Leliana? ‘What is she up to?’ I thought, ‘the quiet life, the peasant clothes, hair ragged and messy like a boy… this is not her.’. You were planning something, I told myself. So I watched… but no letters were sent, no messages, you barely spoke to anyone. Clever, Leliana, very clever. You almost had me fooled. But then you left the Chantry, so suddenly. What conclusion should I draw? You tell me.”

“You think I left because of you? You think I still have some plan for… for revenge?!” she asked in shock, “you are insane. Paranoid!”

“The world doesn’t revolve around you,” Kallian commented.

“Oh, is that what you think? If I were you, I would believe nothing she says, not a one,” Marjolaine laughed, “she will use you. You look at her and you see a simple girl— a friend, trusting and warm. It is an act.”

“She says to the one with the most secrets in our group,” Kallian scoffed, “I know when people are using me, whether I play along with it or not is my choice.”

She did seem to have an alarming amount of secrets, and her skills of observation seemed unparalleled.

“I am not you, Marjolaine,” she stated, “I left because I didn’t want to become you.”

“Oh, but you are me: you cannot escape it. No one will understand you the way I do, because we are one in the same,” Marjolaine replied, “do you know why you were a master manipulator, Leliana? It is because you enjoyed the game, you reveled in the power it gave you. You cannot change or deny this.”

“I have a lot of trust in Leliana, actually,” Kallian replied.

“Thank you… you will not threaten me or my friends again, Marjolaine,” she glared, “I want you out of my life, forever.”

“I believe in second chances,” Kallian commented, “not thirds, so can we just stick a sword in her and be done with it?”

“You’ve caused too much pain for too many, Marjolaine,” she nodded drawing her bow, “it ends here.”

“And you think you can kill me, like that?” Marjolaine laughed, “I made you, Leliana. I can destroy you just as easily.”

“In my opinion, Leliana made herself,” Kallian replied throwing a dagger into one of the mercenaries as Diana began attacking some of the others, “but that’s just me, nya.”

It was done.

Marjolaine was dead, and would no longer be after her, no longer be after anyone.

And she was conflicted because she had enjoyed it.

Kallian’s daggers flipped up towards her arms, and her hands disappeared beneath her sleeves again and re-emerged weapon free.

“It’s over… she’s,” she sighed, “she’s dead because of me.”

“No, she’s dead because of herself,” Kallian replied already switched back.

“I would like some time to myself,” she replied, “I’ll… head back first.”

“Alright,” Kallian nodded.

***

They were back at the inn they were staying at, she’d purchased books on the Blight, Darkspawn, and all that assorted business and locked it away in the safety of her pack. And then took the whip-chain from her sleeve since she wouldn’t be able to carry that extra bulk on the path she was going to travel.

She wrote a letter to Shianni, packed a purse of ten sovereigns worth of silver, and tied it with her favorite hair ribbon, before slipping it into one of the pockets in her sleeve. She’d bought a similar ribbon earlier that day, so it’ll be alright to lose this one. Her fingers brushed against the disk thing she’d been meaning to ask Alistair about and went back to the tavern part of the inn.

“Ah! By the way Darrian,” she said holding up the flat-ish disk, “at risk of sounding stupid, what’s this?”

“Uhhh is that a trick question?” Alistair asked and the look on her face must have been a rather pathetic one, since he immediately backpedaled, “a rune! It’s a rune! A journeyman’s frost rune, by the look of it.”

“Ohhhh… so that’s what these look like,” she replied staring at it, “interesting.”

“How do you not know what a rune looks like?” Alistair asked.

“I told you, didn’t I?” she replied tilting her head to the side, “Elves who are armed and wear armor are killed by the City Guard… Of course, that extends to things that may be attached to weapons and armor. Not to mention they were probably more expensive than I was willing to pay.”

“…Right, poverty,” Alistair replied.

“I didn’t have a lot, it’s true, but I was content,” she replied, “poverty doesn’t _have_ to equate to misery, you know? Also… think of it this way: I wouldn’t be this strong or skilled if I didn’t live the life I did.”

“That’s very true,” Wynne nodded.

“I would’ve been a completely different person,” she mused, “not sure if I would have liked her. So I think things worked out fine.”

“Robin, do you mind if I ask you how old you are?” Wynne asked.

“I turned eighteen this year,” she replied and Alistair spat out his drink, and since they were sitting across from each other, she was in the splash zone, “I’m going to obliterate you.”

“How are you only eighteen!?” Alistair asked after his coughing fit died down and she wiped her face.

“I was only born eighteen years ago,” she replied, “that’s how.”

“How are you so calm all the time?!” Alistair asked.

“I’ve been desensitized to death since I was fourteen, death happens,” she replied off-handedly, “I can’t let fear cripple me. The world stops for no one, time passes unhindered, clocks can never truly be reset. The world continues to move forward, and so I must as well.”

“You are infuriatingly like my Mother,” Morrigan grumbled, “truly, ‘tis almost as if I never left the Wilds.”

“Robin is like Flemeth?” Leliana asked.

“They both like their secrets, they can both be annoyingly vague and cryptic,” Morrigan counted off her fingers, “they both have vast displays of wisdom, they’re both tricksters… truly, the list goes on. Not to mention I have never met someone who so completely understands my Mother as she does.”

“I don’t know, I think Robin’s more understandable,” Alistair replied, “and reasonable. And makes more sense.”

“‘Tis true, she does,” Morrigan sighed, “but still… one cannot help but see the similarities, especially considering how much time I have spent at my Mother’s side…”

“Wow, you guys are agreeing on something,” she remarked before standing up to leave, “we should mark this on the calendar.”

“Where are you going, my dear?” Zevran asked.

It was weird to hear him call her ‘my dear’ instead of ‘my dear Warden’ and she wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Did she like being his personal Warden? She didn’t make sense to herself anymore. She should be pushing people away, keeping them at arms length. Look at what’s happened to Leliana, now. It was only a matter of time before something happened to Morrigan, Sten… as well as Zevran…

She keeps reminding herself of this, keeps telling herself to put more distance between them… Honestly, at this point, it was probably near impossible.

“I feel an annoying string of questioning coming,” she replied before skipping out of the tavern, “so I’m leaving before it gets here, also, I have some places I want to go to on my own.”

It was night time, the dark will mask her well, allow her to sneak by unseen, and she chose clothes that would help her do this. She put her gloves on, cracked her knuckles and went to the nearby alley where no one was and began moving along her path.

Perhaps she would make a good assassin.

***

Eighteen?

They were seven years apart, she was born around the same time he was sold to the Crows.

“She is a remarkably skilled and wise eighteen-year-old,” Sten commented, “even within the Qun you would be hard-pressed to find someone of her caliber.”

“It’s probably a testament to how hard a life she’s lived,” Leliana replied, “though she always seems to downplay how hard it really was.”

“No, no, I don’t think that it’s so much that she downplays it,” Alistair spoke up, “as it’s more that to her, it was normal.”

Both he and Leliana had apparently decided to follow his Warden to see where she was headed.

She was already bouncing off of two walls to gain enough height to grab onto ledge of the roof before she used her extra momentum to swing the rest of her body on top of it. They could barely keep her in sight, she didn’t stop moving, using her continued momentum to carry her across long distances. She flowed through the night like a shadow, swift, silent, and sure. Truly, no one would ever be able to navigate Denerim like she could, even with years of training, both he and Leliana eventually lost sight of her.

“She really wasn’t lying, was she?” Leliana mused.

“She probably noticed we were following her as well,” he sighed.

***

Her instincts told her she was being tracked, and that she didn’t want to be. So halfway to her destination, she changed course, though it was probably Leliana and Zevran… But people had tried to track her before, so she erred on the side of caution anyway. She always kept at least six different routes to get from one place to the next in her pocket to randomly rotate through so that people couldn’t follow her, or wait in ambush.

Denerim would always be her territory.

She made it to the Alienage, and quietly slipped into her house.

Both Shianni and her Father were asleep.

And Shianni… Looked like she’d lost weight, her eyes were sunken in and she almost woke her up to hug her tightly and reassure her she was still around. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes, but she kept them in check.

Instead, she left the letter and purse next to her on the bed, brushed a soft kiss to her forehead, and left. She couldn’t risk anyone seeing her, she couldn’t risk others knowing she was here. That she had been here.

She could only pray that this would be enough for Shianni to recover her spark, and to start caring for herself again. Taking a different route out of the Alienage, she gave one last glance to her former home, took a deep steadying breath, and left. She decided to see if Leliana and Zevran were still where she’d lost them, rubbing tears from her eyes as she moved back towards where they likely were. Rather than straight-up going to them, she allowed herself to be seen climbing on top of a higher roof.

***

She’d felt a familiar presence, one she hadn’t felt in months, one she thought she’d never feel again. Lips brushed against her forehead, and she fought to open her eyes, but whoever was there was already gone.

“Kalli…?” she murmured, but she wasn’t there. Of course, she wasn’t. Her cousin was dead, and it was her fault, she felt tears welling up in her eyes again before she noticed a letter, and a purse next to her on the bed, tied with her cousin’s favorite hair ribbon.

Eyes widening in shock, she opened the letter quickly, to read what was written in familiar handwriting.

_Shianni,_

_Don’t tell anyone this, don’t show anyone this. Not even Father nor Soris, burn this after you read it, or at least hide it convincingly, nya._

_I don’t know what you’ve heard, but there’s some seriously… weird shit going down in Ferelden at the moment, Loghain betrayed the King, and only two Grey Wardens survived. Obviously, I’m one of them. At current, we’re busy doing… things… so that we can deal with this Blight, and I’m not going to go into any detail about it._

_Politics are hard, mya._

_In any case, I’m traveling with a group of others, including said other surviving Grey Warden, doing what we need to to get Ferelden through this. I think you’d like them, the people I’m traveling with… I’d like to introduce you to all of them one day, and… not a day goes by where I don’t regret that I was forced to leave your side. The other Grey Warden and I have been labeled treasonous traitors and we’re currently being used as a scape-goat for regicide. As such, I can’t come home._

_I’m alive bitch-tits, so stop blaming yourself, and start taking care of yourself again._

_Remember, don’t tell anyone, don’t do anything stupid, keep this a secret, even from Father and Soris._

_I love you, and always will._

_Your Dumb, Idiot, Cat of a Cousin:  
-Kallinyan._

_P.S: Use the money in the purse sparingly and make sure no one knows where you got it from and all that noise, yeah?_

_P.P.S: I’ve acquired a dog and named her Diana._

_P.P.P.S: I feel like I’ve become even more of a cat, Shianni, halp._

She had to keep a giggle from sprouting up from her chest, without a doubt, Kallian had written this. It practically reeked of her personality, she could tell in the handwriting, and in the wording. She held letter tightly to her chest trying to fight the tears that threatened to fall.

Kallian was alive.

And she risked a lot of danger to slip this letter to her, knowing that she was blaming herself for getting her killed. She also knew her well enough, that she’d refuse to burn this letter.

She thanked the heavens, the Maker, Andraste, and even the Elven Pantheon.

Her cousin was alive.

***

His Warden had a bottle of booze of some sort and was sitting on top of the roof they saw her climbing onto staring at the sky. She’d taken her hat off and it looked like she’d been crying. Leliana decided to leave it to him and returned to the inn first, something he silently thanked her for.

“Where did you go, my dear Warden?” he asked.

“To find this, so that I could have a solitary moon-viewing party,” Kallian replied holding the bottle up as he took a seat next to her, “but seriously, didn’t I say that there were places I wanted to go to on my own?”

He took it from her and drank from it, cider.

“Heyyy… that’s mine,” Kallian whined, and he passed it back to her, “where did Leli go?”

Of course, she knew they were both following her, and he also knew that her errand wasn’t purely to find her stash of her cider, but of course, she wouldn’t tell him what she’d truly gone to do.

“She decided to head back to the inn first,” he replied.

“I see,” Kallian replied.

They sat there in comfortable silence, simply sharing an existence in the same space, while also sharing a bottle of cider. It was calming, quiet, and nice as if they were the only two people left in the world. When the bottle of cider was empty Kallian stood up, stretched, and shoved her hair back under her hat. 

“We should head back,” Kallian stated before leaping down from the roof and he followed, in silence, being sure not to tip off any guards or anything on their way back.

She was clearly taking a different route, and moving at a more followable speed, an odd feeling, really. But, it was inevitable, she moved faster than he did, and she was also incredibly nimble and flexible. Between the two of them, he was the assassin, and she was just a girl who grew up in the Denerim Alienage without any formal training, but despite that, she would probably easily make it to the rank of a talon within the Crows.

***

Shianni seemed to regain her spark, saying she had a dream about Kallian, and how she’d told her to stop moping around like an idiot.

He thanked the Maker, he wouldn’t have been able to handle losing both of his treasured cousins.


	27. How the Cat Lost a Few of Her Secrets

He’d been thinking ever since he’d left Goldanna’s house, and he’d been meaning to talk about it with Kallian. Until she completely disappeared to Maker knows where, to do Maker knows what, and didn’t return until Maker knows when with Zevran in tow. Though he doubted anything had happened between the two.

“Kalli, can we talk for a moment?” he asked as Kallian put his disguise on

“Sure,” Kallian replied, “look up.”

“I’ve been thinking,” he replied following her orders, “back when we left Goldanna’s, you told me I needed to look out for myself more than I do… and I’m beginning to think you were right.”

“Of course I’m right, Mother always knows best, unless she doesn’t.”

“You’re not my Mother, but, I do need to stop letting everyone else make decisions for me. I need to take a stand and think about myself for a change, or I’m never going to be happy.”

“Fine, I’ll settle to be your older sister, but don’t let me influence you if you don’t want to do it.”

“I’m older than you, and no, what you said made sense: I _should_ be looking out for myself more. Or did I not understand you?”

“Nope, you understood loud and clear,” Kallian grinned, “and age is relative, nya. Also, we’re basically family already, you know? I’m pretty sure everyone else thinks the same.”

“I suppose, you are more like an older sister than Goldanna would ever be,” he sighed, “then from this point on, I’ll be looking out for myself more. I should have done this a long time ago.”

“Agreed,” Kallian said knocking him lightly on the head.

“I just wanted to thank you, you’ve been a great friend, sister, even, through all of this, the second brightest spot in everything that’s happened.”

“D’awwww, I love you too,” Kallian cooed, “family doesn’t always have to be who you’re related to by blood. In fact, some family members are better off being disowned. Like Goldanna, I guess.”

“Hahaha,” he laughed, “right you are.”

“Also, second brightest spot, huh? Without this bright spot, you two might not have even met, mrow!” Kallian said with a wry grin, “though, I suppose it does take another bright spot to be able to tell who's really the brightest… So I’ll let you off with that, this time.”

“What about you and Zevran?” he asked, “what’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing, really,” Kallian replied waving a sleeve around, “I think… anyway…”

He really felt bad for Zevran, Kallian might actually be incredibly dense.

***

She waited her turn, while Alistair was getting his disguise put on, not wanting to interrupt. They really did give off the feeling of two siblings getting along with each other.

“Did you want to talk?” Kallian asked after Alistair had left to head down to the Tavern.

“I can’t get what happened out of my head: I’d been in Lothering for years and she still thought I was plotting against her,” she admitted, “she didn’t trust me, maybe she never did. She loved me when she could use me and control me, and now that she couldn’t, she wanted me dead. It… it hurts to realize that I never really knew her.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Kallian asked.

“You are already helping so much by listening to me, by being a shoulder to lean on, I knew she was ruthless, but I didn’t know how far she could go… She is self-serving, cruel… she uses people, then discards them, but that’s how she survived in the life she led… But what if she’s right? What if we’re the same? I… I feel like I should have just stayed in the Chantry.”

“I don’t think that would have made it better.”

“You don’t understand: I forgot my life as a bard when I was in the cloister, I felt safe, I didn’t have to watch my back all the time,” she shook her head, “that’s what made Marjolaine the person she is, don’t you see? It ruined her, it will ruin me too… It’s already happened: when we killed her I… I enjoyed it. Seeing her dead gave me satisfaction.”

“With what she did to you, with what she put you through, she deserved it.”

“But that is no reason to rejoice over her death… that is what she would do, I don’t want that,” she sighed, “what we’re doing… what we’ve done— hunted men down, killed them— part of me loves it. It invigorates me and this scares me. I… I feel myself slipping.”

“I dunno, I would have rejoiced over her death too, were I you, does that make me like Marjolaine as well?”

“No! You two are nothing like each other, absolutely nothing,” she sighed, “I admit I took great pleasure in the intrigue back in Orlais, it was difficult and chaotic… and exciting, but it also destroyed my life… I thought the Chantry showed me another path. I thought I was done with this life… am I wrong?”

“There’s nothing wrong with doing what you like doing, I mean… I do.”

That was true… Kallian was one of _the_ most willful people she’d ever met, and she knew it, she didn’t deny it.

She owned it.

“There is this thought that floats into my mind constantly— that I lie when I say the Chantry gave me peace, when in truth it… it bored me,” she admitted, “here, with you… knowing the freedom of the road and the uncertainty of tomorrow… I feel alive again.”

“Go with what your instincts tell you,” Kallian grinned, “I may be like a wild animal, but wild animals are also beautiful, graceful, and unafraid, don’t you think?”

“You’re right… I would like to think on this for a bit longer… I have many things to consider,” she replied as they began walking back to the tavern part of the inn, “thank you, for listening to me.”

“Anytime, Leli.”

***

They were sitting in the tavern having breakfast, Alistair and his Warden’s disguises already on. They had plans to seek out Brother Genitivi, and spend another day or two in Denerim, for the sake of their sanity, as his Warden had put it before launching into an explanation on how important breaks, as well as mental, and emotional recuperation were when Sten tried to argue.

And now, for the first time he noticed something and snatched her left hand and she looked at him curiously.

“When were you injured?” he asked bluntly, “did you injure yourself?”

“Not recently,” Kallian asked gently tugging at her hand but he didn’t let go, “and no I did not, why?”

“Then explain this,” he replied pulling back her sleeve before staring at her in shock her forearm was covered in bandages from just above her wrist all the way to her elbow, “or did you…?”

“Cut? If you’re asking me if I cut, the answer is no, I didn’t,” Kallian frowned before lifting the index finger of her other hand to her chin in thought, she was wearing bandages on that arm too, “a few years ago… I was in an accident. Kind of… I was kind of in an accident? Wait… was it an accident? Whoaaa… the details are getting all mixed up in my head.”

He frowned and began undoing her bandages, not even bothering to ask for permission.

Scars…

Burn scars, and they were horrendous looking enough for Leliana to gasp.

“Who did this to you?” he asked angrily.

“The scars or the tattoos?” Kallian asked.

“The scars,” he snapped.

“A house,” Kallian replied, “I was almost crushed under a burning house.”

“Was it the house that…?” Alistair said in recognition. 

“Nope, that was a different burning house,” Kallian replied waving her other sleeve around.

“How many burning houses were you almost crushed under?!” Alistair asked in shock.

“Uhmmmm…” Kallian’s eyes turned to the ceiling in thought.

“THAT MANY?!” Alistair shouted.

“Well… it came with being one of half of the Fire Sisters, my cousin and I… well actually it was more me… My cousin used to dump buckets of water over my head and I used to run into burning houses to collapse the foundations to keep fires from spreading on windy days,” Kallian explained with a laugh, “but this particular house… It came down faster than I’d anticipated… the wood had rot and I barely had time to shove a child out before I had to protect my face and jump out.”

“Didn’t that hurt?” Alistair asked dumbly.

“Of fucking course, it hurt,” Kallian furrowed her brows, “shall I describe to you the aftercare?”

“Please don’t,” Alistair replied.

“And you have no fear of fire, truly?” Morrigan quirked a brow.

“Nope, because I’m an idiot,” Kallian grinned before turning back to him and gently tugging her arm back to her, but he kept hold of it as he sat in the chair next to her and sighed heavily as she watched him in confusion, “you okay there? I mean I know it’s gross looking but…”

“No, I am simply wondering how you kept this a secret for so long,” he replied and began gently re-wrapping her arm for her, feeling her curious gaze on him.

“…How _did_ you keep that a secret for so long?” Alistair asked.

“It’s more like… why did it take you so long to notice? I wear them all the time,” Kallian retorted with a snort, “as for how I kept it a secret? Well, sleeves for one, obviously… You were too busy watching my flailing sleeves to notice the bandages, most likely… I don’t know. Why didn’t you notice it earlier, hm?”

How _had_ he not noticed her bandages? She always wore them, and they’d been with her for months. He should have noticed far earlier, especially considering how much they were around each other.

“Is that why you flail your sleeves around?” Sten asked.

“No,” Kallian waved her other sleeve around, “that happened after I began pulling out all my sleeves to cover it… I flail them around because it’s fun.”

“You think it’s fun to flail your sleeves around?” Alistair asked.

“I mean, yeah, if I’m going to have long sleeves I might as well have fun with it, y’know?” Kallian replied, “though, I was hoping you’d never find out.”

“You were?” he asked with a frown.

“Yeah, I wanted to see how long it took you to notice,” Kallian laughed before standing up to return to the room she was sharing with Morrigan, “in the beginning, I just didn’t want to explain it, but at some point, I just began wondering how long I could keep it a secret… I thought it was hilarious.”

“Well, I suppose that’s one mystery solved,” Wynne sighed.

“Right, just… a hundred more to go, right?” Alistair replied, “I wonder how she keeps track of all of them.”

“I’m going to do some things,” Kallian said re-entering the tavern and moving to the door, “and then go to Brother Genitivi’s, see ya.”

“What kind of things?” he asked.

“Chanter’s board, and I also saw someone I used to know,” Kallian answered, “I should probably go see if he knows anything… Though I might need to drag a Human around with me in case there are jobs that require combat… I have an image to keep. Though, I just need you to help me accept them. I’m perfectly capable of handling the actual thing on my own, but I know that no one will take that as an answer.”

Wynne decided to go peruse ingredients for spells and potions, Morrigan decided to hole herself up in her room to study Flemeth’s Grimoire, Sten wanted to look at weapons, and Leliana wanted to spend time in the Chantry to reflect a bit.

Which meant it was just Alistair, and him following his Warden around.

“The mice really have played while the cat was away, huh,” Kallian muttered quietly looking at the Chanter’s board before turning to Alistair, “Darrian, can you go see what Sergeant Kylon wants for me? He’s by Wade’s Emporium.”

What did she mean by the mice have played while the cat was away? Obviously, she’s the cat, but who are the mice?

“On it,” Alistair replied moving to go talk to the man.

Once he was gone his Warden quickly moved towards another man who had discreetly caught her attention.

“I thought I saw you, Robin,” the Man said.

“Hey, Slim,” Kallian replied before gesturing to him, “this is Slim Couldry, his family is bigger than it has any reason to be, we know each other because I think laws are just suggestions.”

“So, you finally willing to do something not entirely legal?” Slim asked.

“Ehhh why not,” Kallian replied giving the man some coin, and he gave her a note, “easy peasy.”

What exactly was his Warden’s relationship with this man, and what were they getting in? She handed him the note, it detailed a target to pickpocket and a room to break into and rob. He looked at his Warden and she gave him a conspiratory grin, which he returned. So this was why she sent Alistair away.

He pick-pocketed the woman and then helped his Warden break into a room in the Gnawed Noble Tavern before fencing their ill-gotten gains and moving to meet up with Alistair.

“Sorry, Zevran, but I’ll be borrowing Robin for a bit,” Leliana said as she stole his Warden away and he sighed.

His Warden didn’t solely belong to him, she was well-loved and respected by everyone in their group, and she cared for everyone else as well. Still, he didn’t like seeing her snatched away from him.

***

It wasn’t even noon yet, but she decided to bring Kallian to a little cafe she’d found near the Market, though she thought it was funny watching Zevran’s dejected face as she stole her away. She wondered if he knew just how attached to her he was getting.

“Do you remember our discussion this morning?” she asked and Kallian nodded, “I just wanted to tell you that I thought about what you told me and… you were right. I didn’t want to admit it, even to myself, but those years in Lothering, I yearned for the freedom and the recklessness that I knew in Orlais… The Maker made the world beautiful, but He also made it dangerous. To really experience it, I have to embrace this, not… not hide away in some nunnery.”

“Life’s a bit too short to deny yourself of doing the things you like, you only have one life to live, you might as well have fun with it,” Kallian replied, “I’ve seen a lot of people on their death beds wishing they’d lived a little. For me? Even if I were to get cut down right now, I’d be fine with it, because I enjoyed the life I’ve lived.”

That’s right, Kallian had helped out healers and apothecaries, she’s had more experience seeing death on such a personal level… and she used that knowledge to make her own judgment on how she wanted to live her life. She lived knowing that she could die at any moment, knowing that death happens and that it can happen suddenly and without warning, so she lived her life the way she wanted to. She was willful because she didn’t want to regret not living a little, and even though she was willful, she was still kind, helpful, patient, and caring… Just doing what she wanted didn’t make her like Marjolaine.

It made her remember what she’d said yesterday in response to Marjolaine claiming that she’d made her:

_“In my opinion, Leliana made herself, but that’s just me, nya.”_

She was right, Marjolaine didn’t make her: the one who made her was herself.

“Sometimes… it takes another to show us the truths we hide from ourselves,” she said finally, “I’m glad I left Lothering in your company… you have proven a true friend and even a sister, and I thank the Maker for you.”

“So, want to be up to no good with me and Zevran?” Kallian grinned.

“Oh! Will Leliana be joining us?” Zevran asked seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

“Eavesdropping on a conversation between women is boorish,” Kallian pursed her lips as they moved to leave the cafe after paying for tea and cake.

“I was simply helping Darrian find you,” Zevran replied brightly.

“Oh, you found them?” Alistair asked, “right, Sergeant Kylon wants us to go to the Pearl to handle a disturbance.”

“Ahhh, then while we’re there I’m sure you can get some of your frustrations vented, ey?” Kallian said nudging Zevran.

“Only if it’s with you, my dear,” Zevran grinned.

“Whoaaaa, why does it still surprise me to hear you say these things?” Kallian replied moving off in the direction of the Pearl, “you’d think I’d learned by now, but here we are. Also, shut the fuck up, Darrian.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” Alistair protested.

“I know you!” Kallian replied.

“Didn’t you just tell me that you shouldn’t deny yourself the things you like?” she teased.

“Don’t tell me how to live my life, Leli!” Kallian replied, causing her to giggle.

***

Let’s see, another thing Kylon wanted was to clean up the back alleys, which she might want to do alone since it’d be a good time to use her chain whip.

A cat’s job is to deal with mice, after all.

She used to keep them in check by simply moving about the back alleys, they knew her presence and rightfully stayed afraid. When the gangs were up to some serious no good, she told Slim their locations and had him feed the anonymous tip to the guards and had them take care of it. Combing through the back alleys of Denerim in her free time really made her aware of everything.

“Ahhhhh, I grew up in a place such as this,” Zevran said, “they say you can never go home again, but for ten silvers an hour, you can get pretty close.”

“Why do they call it a ‘brothel’?” Alistair asked, “there’s no broth, or is there?”

“It’s just one of those words,” she answered, “that even though it sounds like a combination of words, is just its own word. Like con, and concur, a con means something negative, like deception and such, while concur…”

She trailed off as she realized she was giving a linguistic lesson inside of a brothel.

Why was she giving a lesson on linguistics inside of a brothel?

“I think Robin just realized she was giving an actual wholesome lesson inside of a brothel,” Leliana remarked, “I once did a stint in a brothel, serving tea. It was complementary. Fun times.”

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Robin,” Sanga said recognizing her instantly, “it’s been a while since I last saw you.”

“Urgh… hi… Sanga…” she mumbled as the proprietress put her arm around her shoulders.

“You know we’ve missed you around here, hm?” Sanga remarked.

“Is that so?” she replied leaning away from her.

“Hm? You brought friends? Customers?” Sanga said noticing the other three, “or did Kylon send you?”

“The first and last one,” she answered.

“Shame, how about I put you to work?” Sanga asked her.

“No,” she replied crossing her arms in front of her in an ‘x’.

“You used to work here?” Zevran asked, “I thought you said you have no experience.”

“She doesn’t, that wasn’t the kind of work she did here,” Sanga laughed, “she use—”

“So about those mercenaries, right?” she said quickly interrupting her.

Of course, Sanga would recognize her, and of course, she’d want to put her to work again. The mice are running amok in the back alleys, Denerim was her territory, and Sten’s comment on her being a jaguar wasn’t wrong. She hunted those who preyed on others, and kept their numbers in check, like the keystone species that they are. Most brothels and innkeepers knew her and helped her keep her secrets secret as she gave the people tracking her the slip. She should have worn a different face today.

“I see… they’re over there,” Sanga sighed before gesturing in their direction.

“Go for it Darrian,” she said gently pushing him in that direction.

“Why me?” Alistair asked.

“Because they won’t question why a Human male is giving them orders?” she replied, “obviously?”

“So what _can_ you tell us about her?” Zevran asked Sanga.

“Yes, she seems to have a lot of secrets,” Leliana jumped in.

“I’ll just say that she’s a very precious existence to us,” Sanga replied before they moved to talk to the White Falcons, “she has her reasons to keep her secrets.”

“Turn around and walk, stranger,” the Man said, “this affair is for White Falcons only.”

She felt anxious, was this what it was like for a parent to watch their child go on their first errand?

“By order of the city guard,” Alistair said firmly, “vacate the premises.”

“Get a load of this guard,” the Man laughed, “you’re telling _us_ what to do?”

“Nobles want solid, reliable soldiers,” Alistair replied, “not riffraff.”

“Ehhh… you have a point there, men, let’s clear out,” the Man said quickly as his eyes connected with hers before taking his leave, “don’t… don’t want to get on Loghain’s bad side, do we?”

“Good job, Darrian,” she said patting him on the head.

“I see you’re still a master of intimidation, Robin, I’ve always found it funny how easily you intimidate people who are twice your age and size,” Sanga laughed after they left, “tell Sergeant Kylon I owe him one.”

***

His Warden truly was a woman of many secrets, he didn’t even know that she had ones connected to a whorehouse. The proprietress had called her a ‘very precious existence’, and said that ‘she has her reasons’. Though, thinking back on it, his Warden’s ability to easily intimidate people was rather surprising, especially considering that they were armed men, being intimidated by a tiny Elven woman eighteen years of age.

“Stop playing games, Isabela!” Someone shouted, “we want our money!”

Isabela?

“I think you forgot who you are speaking to,” Isabela replied, “I will give you a chance to leave quickly.”

“You brazen hussy!” Another Man shouted, “someone needs to put you in your place!”

He grabbed his Warden by the hand to stop her from interfering, and she turned to look at him in confusion. He held onto her as she tried to tug herself from his grasp, and he just shook his head at her, which simply made her furrow her brows in confusion.

Though, as expected, the fight was over quickly.

“She’s too good!” the Third Man shouted as they turned tail and ran.

“Be off with you now, and be glad I only took from you your gold!” Isabela called after them before noticing him, “and look who we have here. Come to apologize of leaving me bereft of my lord husband and then vanishing without a trace?”

“You know it was just business, Isabela,” he replied, “business that turned out well for you, I see— you inherited the ship, I take it?”

“Hmph… I suppose I never did like the greasy bastard,” Isabela scoffed, “and the Siren treats me far better than she ever did him.”

“Oh! Should we let you two catch up?” Kallian asked.

“Any catching up Zevran and I have to do, we wouldn’t be doing out here in the market,” Isabela replied, “now, Zev, shouldn’t you introduce us?”

“Indeed, this is Isabela, Queen of the Eastern Seas and the sharpest blade in Llomerryn,” he said introducing them, “and Isabela, my dear, you will no doubt be amused to discover that I am traveling with a Grey Warden.”

“Ah, a pleasure to meet you, Isabela, my name is Kallian, though this face’s name is Robin,” Kallian replied politely before bumping the side of her hip into his with a grin, “are you sure you don’t want to vent your frustrations?”

“Will you be joining us?” he asked returning her grin.

“Ah-ha-ha,” Kallian laughed, “don’t you think you’re upping the difficulty too much?”

“A Grey Warden?” Isabela said, “charmed.”

“Your fighting abilities are impressive,” Kallian remarked.

“I assume you saw that little drama? None of these poor brutes has ever proven a match for me,” Isabela chuckled, “they are too clumsy and predictable.”

“Oh! I know what you mean!” Kallian clapped her hands together, “though, my preferred method is intimidation.”

“Intimidation, hm? I fight with quickness and wit, rather than brute force and strength,” Isabela replied, “I call myself a duelist because I honed my skills in duels with warriors I encountered over the years.”

“Can you teach me?” Kallian asked.

“Why would you need to learn how to become a duelist, my dear?” he asked, “you already fight with an alarming amount of speed and flexibility.”

“Because why not?” Kallian asked in return.

“Ha! An unusual request coming from a fearsome slayer of Darkspawn, I am flattered that you wish to learn from me, sweet thing,” Isabela chuckled, “it will take you years of practice to achieve true mastery of the style, but I can teach you the basics.”

Of course, his Warden would also get along with Isabela, his Warden gets along with everyone, and now Isabela was already flirting with her and he was not sure how to feel about the irritation he felt. Perhaps he shouldn’t have introduced them to each other.

“Awesome!” Kallian cheered.

“I do, however, wish to get to know my potential student better,” Isabela replied, “so we shall call for a drink and you will honor me with a game.”

“What game?” Kallian asked.

“Have you ever played Wicked Grace? It is easy to learn but difficult to master, you must watch your opponent’s moves as carefully as your own,” Isabela replied gesturing for Kallian to sit, “before we start, the cards must be shuffled. Shall I, or would you like to?”

“You can shuffle them,” Kallian replied.

“Very well, there, that should do it,” Isabela said as she shuffled them and then began dealing, “five cards each to start with… and may the cleverest player win.”

Kallian moved to pick up her cards but Isabela stopped her.

“Not with those sleeves you don’t,” Isabela said.

“Isabela,” he said trying to stop her, “she has—”

“It’s okay,” Kallian sighed pulling her daggers from her sleeves and placing them on the table before rolling them up.

“I see…” Isabela smirked at him, “how did you and Zev meet?”

“He tried to kill us, but cats trump crows so I won. I knocked him out in one hit,” Kallian answered, “and then I felt like if we didn’t bring him along he’d die, nya.”

“Still as cruel as when we first met, I see,” he sighed.

“Well, naturally, I can’t help it,” Kallian chuckled, “I’ll never forget about how you actu—”

He covered her mouth with his hand with a frown, and he could tell she wanted nothing more than to laugh hysterically about the fact that he lied about picking locks. Likely, Isabela wouldn’t let him forget it either, and he didn’t want to be at the mercy of her as well.

“You two seem to have a good relationship,” Isabela smirked at him, “ah, the knight of dawn! Just what I wanted.”

“It’s not as good as he would like,” Alistair commented.

“Or as close, for that matter,” Leliana added with a sigh.

“Ha! The Angel of Death card!” Isabela announced, “the game is over. We must show our hands.”

“Alright, read ‘em and weep,” Kallian smirked spreading her hand out in front of her.

“You have… two angels and three knights! And all the same theme!” Isabela said in shock as Kallian tugged her sleeves back down her arms, “that is one of the best hands I have ever seen… You’ve won! You have proven yourself quick and resourceful, and I would be honored to pass my skills on to you.”

How did she manage to end up with that hand?

“Well, I am a master tactician, after all,” Kallian replied, “and I would be honored to learn.”

“Come, we will need space for this,” Isabela said gesturing for her to follow.

They watched Isabela and Kallian teach each other different techniques since their fighting styles seemed to mesh well with each other since they both relied upon speed.

“Good luck, Zev,” Isabela smirked at him, “you have your work cut out for you.”

“I know,” he sighed, “I know.”

***

Apparently, not as much time as she’d expected had passed in the whorehouse.

Which was surprising, isn’t it supposed to be the opposite?

“I was hoping I’d find you, I heard about the Pearl,” Kylon said walking up to Alistair, “I don’t know how, but you got them to leave with no fuss at all… The Pearl’s ‘workers’ will—”

She pointed behind Kylon who turned to look as she slipped her gloves on.

“ _Nobody_ gives orders to my men but me,” the Mercenary Captain said and his eyes landed on her, “a little lesson in respect is in order…and look, you’ve even brought us a whore…”

“I see… don’t bother sparing these louts,” Kylon sighed, “things are about to get messy.”

“Music to my ears,” she smiled before dashing through the guard straight for the captain slamming the blade of her dagger up through his chin and straight to his brain, moving his body to block arrows for her as she closed the distance between another and slammed one of her daggers into the side of his skull.

Watching their faces as she swiftly turned the tables on them…

She loved it.

She knew she had problems, and she’d told them she had a messed up personality… she just didn’t tell them that her personality was messed up because she liked their faces when they realized they were outmatched. When they realized that the one they were facing, was the true monster.

The others cleaned the rest of them up.

“…And people actually voluntarily attack you?” Kylon said looking at her, “are they just stupid?”

“Pretty much,” she replied.

“Here’s the payment I promised,” Kylon said handing the purse to Alistair, “I might have more work if you’re interested… But I’m heading back to the Market District… the back alleys are just too dangerous for me these days.”

“These days?” Leliana asked.

“Before, the back alleys were a lot safer,” Kylon explained, “but lately it’s gotten pretty bad.”

“Scary,” she commented.

The mice really have played a bit too much while the cat was away.

“Do you know anything about this, my dear?” Zevran asked.

“Nope, of course not,” she shook her head, “how would I know something about something like that?”

“Hmmm…” Zevran clearly wasn’t buying it and she stuck her tongue out at him.

She headed to the market towards Brother Genitivi’s address and knocked on the door, and after a bit, someone told them to enter.

And a very familiar smell hit her, something was really, really, wrong here.

“Yes?” a Man asked, “what are you doing here?”

“We are looking for Brother Genitivi,” she answered deciding to humor him for a bit, “would you happen to know his whereabouts?”

“Brother Genitivi?” the Man asked, “why?”

“I would like to ask him about his research,” she answered.

“His research? Ah, you mean his search for Andraste’s Ashes,” the Man replied, “he was on the trail of the Urn of Sacred Ashes, yes. Whether he found it… the Maker only knows… I haven’t seen Brother Genitivi in months. He’s sent no word, it’s unlike him… I’m afraid something has happened. Genitivi’s research into the Urn may have led him into danger.”

That was the only thing she needed to know, so her hand shot forth grabbing him by the neck and moving to slam him against the wall.

“Where is he?” she demanded.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Alistair practically shouted, “what are you doing?!”

“Alistair, you haven’t been around them as much as I have, but this entire house reeks,” she replied, “and it reeks of r.o.t.t.i.n.g.f.l.e.s.h.”

She dropped him and kicked back moving with the blow.

Mind blast? He’s a mage? Oh dear.

“I gave you a chance to turn aside and forget you ever heard of Genitivi and the Urn, but you persisted,” the Man glowered, “now it has come to this… Andraste forgive me. I do this in Your Name.”

She didn’t think she could knock him out, and there wasn’t much to hide behind, so she made the executive decision to just off him and hope there were clues elsewhere in this house. She pulled a scarf out, and wrapped it tightly around the bottom half of her face and secured it with a bow, feeling curious gazes on her. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and opened the door the smell was coming from.

It still hit her like a freight train.

The smell had Alistair and Leliana gagging.

“Go get the City Guard,” she commanded, her voice coming out muffled and they both ran out, and she turned to Zevran, “your training as a Crow really makes you resistant to this kind of stuff, huh?”

“You are quite resistant to it as well, it would appear,” Zevran commented.

“Not as resistant as you are,” she replied deciding to leave the body alone for now, and instead began opening the room up to try and air it out a bit.

She didn’t think she could handle looking at it without needing to go vomit in a corner. Once the body and such were taken care of, she began searching for clues, finding a chest with what looked like Brother Genitivi’s research. She took it and left, she didn’t think she could handle flipping through it while still in that house. If it’s not the right book, she’ll go back later.

***

They decided to take the rest of the day off, on account of, his Warden saying that ‘she had to run a few errands’, and Alistair clearly looking ill from what they’d discovered a bit earlier. They watched Alistair go back to the inn to recuperate, and Leliana go to the Chantry to pray for Genitivi’s assistant.

Of course, he decided to tag along curious to see what kinds of mischief his Warden would get up to, but he felt his heart drop as they wandered around the market when he noticed a familiar duo.

Crows: Master Ignacio, and Cesar.

He pulled her into a nearby shop, and she looked at him with furrowed brows.

“Is there a reason you’re pulling me into a shop that sells dresses?” Kallian asked raising a brow at him before frowning and crossing her arms in front of her chest, “are you planning on buying me clothes?”

“As tempting as it is, alas, no, not this time, my dear,” he sighed before gesturing to the two Crows, “I recognize those two, they’re Crows.”

“I see…” Kallian replied closing her eyes, “and?”

“We should try to avoid them,” he replied dryly.

“’Kay, I’m gonna go talk to them,” Kallian replied mischief in her eyes as she began walking out of the shop humming a random melody.

“That is the opposite of what I just said,” he snapped making a grab to keep her from going, but she dodged around him and went anyway.

It really was impossible to control her. His Warden was too willful and curious for her own good. He followed her with a sigh, catching Leliana’s attention and gesturing her to come with them in case something happened, and she ended up getting them in over their heads.

“Hello,” Kallian said greeting Ignacio.

“Ah, another visitor in my stall,” Ignacio said pleasantly, not even so much as glancing at him, “enjoy browsing my wares.”

“I just wanted to say one thing: I remember you from four years ago,” Kallian said to his complete and utter shock. Ignacio’s eyes also widened in surprise, and Kallian gave the Master Crow a grin before skipping off.

He was confused, she had said that she’d never heard of the Antivan Crows, and that wasn’t an act: she truly hadn’t heard of them. So how did she know Ignacio? Why would she remember him? His Warden’s secrets seemed endless, they found one out, only to learn the existence of a hundred others. He and Leliana shared a confused look, she would not be talking her way out of this one later.

“How do you know those two?” he demanded.

“They tried to track me,” Kallian answered.

“Why?” Leliana asked.

“Beats me,” Kallian shrugged.

A boy ran up to them as his Warden moved about the market district, both he and Leliana wanting to hound her with questions they knew she wouldn’t answer.

“Message for you m’lady,” the Boy said handing her a letter.

“Thank you,” Kallian replied before the boy ran off.

He snatched it from her and opened it for him and Leliana to read…

It was asking if his Warden was interested in working with the Crows, and she was already bouncing towards the Gnawed Noble Tavern, dodging around their attempts to stop her.

This woman would be the death of him.

“You here about the note?” Ignacio asked as Kallian landed herself right in front of him, a small smile never leaving her face, “maybe we have some things we can talk about.”

“Just see the conversation stays civil,” he snapped, “if this is a trap…”

“Zevran, is it? Congratulations,” Ignacio replied, “you found the one person we spent two years trying to find.”

“But you were hired to kill me,” Kallian replied, “twice.”

“I can’t stress enough that I wasn’t hired to do anything: an associate was,” Ignacio replied, “and he’s failed— and failed badly.”

“I’d like to see you do any better,” he said, “and twice?”

“Do you take me for a fool? That’s a contract I’d never take, hmph,” Ignacio scoffed, “and the first time, it wasn’t to kill you. It was the opposite: we wanted to recruit you.”

“Oh, so that was it,” Kallian said slamming her fist into her palm, “all I knew was that I was being tracked and I didn’t want to be found.”

“Why would the Crows want to recruit you?” Leliana asked.

“Do you even know what she is?” Ignacio asked.

“Hey, hey, hey! If they’re going to hear about my misdoings it should be from me!” Kallian said quickly, “do you remember those men who attacked me in the last village?”

“Of course we do,” he snapped.

“They’re all dead, nya,” Kallian said as if she were commenting on the weather, “but I didn’t kill them personally, I just _didn’t prevent their deaths_.”

“What do you mean by that?” he asked.

“I was leading them on a merry chase through the woods planning to pin the blame on the local wildlife,” Kallian explained, “but apparently I ended up baiting in a group of Darkspawn too. So I pit them against each other and mopped up the rest.”

“What? But—” Leliana began.

“I wasn’t covered in blood or roughed up? I specifically used a weapon that wouldn’t make me have to explain why I was covered in blood… my fighting style is unique, yeah? It’s the kind, where if I apply the basic principles to it, _there are no weapons it cannot accommodate_ ,” Kallian replied pulling a chain from her pouch with a thick weighted nail at the end, “and leading people on chases to their dooms is something I used to do quite often. I told you right? That Morrigan’s ‘game’ sounded like something I used to do? Not slow enough to get caught, not fast enough for them to lose interest, just right… I led them through the back alleys of Denerim towards the hideouts of the various gangs and smugglers, before pulling a vanishing act. Their yelling would draw the gang out, and they’d either get mugged or killed, I don’t know, I didn’t stick around. I also used to feed the City Guard anonymous tips on some of the locations of their hideouts when they went too far, that’s why the back alleys were safer: I kept them that way. When I said I have a bit of a messed-up personality, it was because of that: I am the hunter who hunts those who prey on others. I didn’t personally kill anyone until after I met Duncan, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t play a role in their deaths.”

“And it is for those reasons, we wanted to recruit her,” Ignacio stated.

Both he and Leliana needed to sit down as they processed this new piece of information. It made sense, she’d dropped many hints and clues throughout their conversations. Sanga had mentioned that she was a precious existence to them, of course, they’d see her as a precious existence if she kept the city safer. His Warden was apparently more dangerous and deadly than he could have possibly ever imagined.

Still, he did not know what to think at the moment.

“Aren’t you only eighteen?” Leliana asked finally.

“Yep, I started pulling crazy stunts when I was fourteen,” Kallian nodded, “that’s why I have years of practice: I didn’t want to be found… Now you know one of my biggest secrets. Though that isn’t why I was recruited into the Wardens, I was recruited for an entirely different reason.”

An entirely different reason?

“Why didn’t you tell us this?” Leliana asked.

“I don’t think I could handle people I care about looking at me with disgust,” Kallian answered with a distant look, “I am a monster of my own making, I turned myself into one so that I could protect people by eliminating others.”

Her hands were clasped behind her back, but he had a feeling that if they weren’t they’d be shaking.

“I feel like… we don’t even know the real you anymore,” Leliana commented.

“Of course you do, my motivations and values have never changed: it was all out of a desire to help and protect people,” Kallian replied before turning back to Ignacio, “you wanted to work together? Why?”

“A client can always hire more… help, if the job isn’t done the first time,” Ignacio replied, “but I’m hoping we can make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“Is that true?” Kallian asked turning back to him.

“I’ve only heard of the one time the entire House of Crows was hired for a job, a princely sum changed hands and an entire noble family died. Not one soul survived,” he sighed still not sure what to make of his Warden, “Ignacio has the right of it: generally, it is one master, one job.”

“Okay, I’m listening,” Kallian nodded.

“Ferelden is a busy place: Blight, civil war, other mayhem… lots of people not getting along,” Ignacio replied, “sometimes they _really_ don’t get along… maybe want to do something about it? The people that handle that sort of thing can get real busy.”

“So you’re hiring extra help?” Kallian asked.

“You could say that, not many people we can turn to. And especially not many with your skillset,” Ignacio replied, “so someone that’s crossed our path and lived… well, maybe they could help out. Make some coin. Everyone wins.”

“How does this work?” Kallian asked, “and does it help our end goal of ending the Blight?”

“Perhaps… I hand you a scroll, you read it, you learn about someone interesting,” Ignacio explained, “if you find out something happens to him, something unfortunate, then if we talk again I give you money for ‘letting me know’. You don’t like what’s on the scroll, don’t do anything. Maybe he has an accident and someone else tells me all about it.”

“Okay,” Kallian replied, “I’ll take the scroll.”

“There you go,” Ignacio said handing it to her, “makes for fine reading.”

“You’re a cautious little weasel, Ignacio,” he frowned, despite learning that she considered herself a monster, he still desired to protect his Warden, “what’s your angle? If you’re playing us false…”

“My dance is not for you, I need to be real… honest sometimes,” Ignacio replied, “and I can say I haven’t asked anyone to do _anything_. I’ve just given someone something interesting to read.”

“And you think that will save your hide when they nail it to a wall?” he asked as Kallian read through the scroll.

“You’re already dead in my eyes, whoreson,” Ignacio said, “take care that I don’t ‘learn’ otherwise.”

“You touch him and I kill you, and that’s something we both know I can do easily,” Kallian remarked, “and this is in line with our interests. I’ll get it done.”

“If that’s all, then,” Ignacio sighed, “luck be to you.”

They parted ways with Ignacio and once they left the room he’d been staying in, Kallian took a deep breath and sighed.

“All I was, was a girl who wanted to protect the people she loved,” Kallian said quietly, “do you think I’m disgusting for using the methods I did?”

“I don’t think any of us have done better than you have, plus, you did it for other sake of others,” Leliana replied, “in the end, the three of us are just tricksters of varying talents, I suppose.”

“To be completely honest, that simply makes me want you more,” he mused, “I did tell you I fancy things that are beautiful, strong, dangerous, and exciting.”

“True, you did, but it’s still a no,” Kallian replied, “by the way, while the cat was away, the mice have played a bit too much. So the cat has to do what cats do, you feel me?”

“I would love to,” he grinned.

“Well, apparently we have to go to the Pearl again, so,” Kallian replied, “you’ll have another chance to vent your frustrations.”

There was only one person who he wanted to vent his frustrations with, and there wasn’t enough coin in the entire world that could buy her. His Warden was a strong and proud woman, willful, deadly, dangerous. He shouldn’t have been surprised that the Crows had once tried to recruit her, even he thought that she would have made an excellent Crow, and wondered how she’d remained hidden in the Alienage.

***

After the birds helped her take care of the mice, they went to the Pearl, killed the people, then went back to Ignacio, and she wanted to laugh at Zevran’s conflicted face as she read through two more scrolls. Now she was back at the inn reading through Brother Genitivi’s research notes.

“By the way, Zevran,” she hummed, “technically speaking: don’t you have more experience with that kind of stuff than I do?”

“By four years, yes, my dear,” Zevran replied.

Though, she cheated because she also had twenty-three years worth of knowledge from her past life. All it really was, was putting into practice a lot of the different things she’d learned. But you reap what you sow, and her past self had zero attention span so she was reaping the benefits that came from the fact that her attention had constantly shifted around.

“Ohhh, we’re seven years apart then,” she said turning a page through the notes.

“Did you just…?” Alistair stared at her and she laughed, “you’re in a really good mood, and I don’t know how to feel about it.”

“I didn’t do anything special, just indulged in one of my favorite pastimes,” she said sharing a conspiratory grin with Zevran and Leliana, she decided to buy a bottle of booze, “and now I’m going to go indulge in one of my other favorite pastimes.”

“Which is?” Alistair asked.

“Star-gazing,” she answered as she skipped out of the tavern.

Jumping up the rooftops flowing across the eaves on careful footsteps, and then she came to an abrupt stop.

Shianni and Soris.

They were sitting on one of the roofs star-gazing, and she felt her heart soar.

“Do you know them?” a voice, Zevran’s, murmured into her ear and she almost screeched in surprise but he covered her mouth from behind.

And her instincts and reflexes made her throw him over her shoulder, and slam his body down in front of her.

He stared at her in shock, as she crouched down and covered her face with her hands, she was blushing.

“…Sorry,” she squeaked.

“No, no, I should not have surprised you like that,” Zevran replied with a soft chuckle coaxing her hands from her face, but when her eyes met his, she shoved her face back into her hands.

“Don’t look at me,” she squeaked.

She didn’t know her ears and neck were sensitive, this was embarrassing, and so, not knowing what else to do for the moment:

The wild Kallian has fled the battle.

Zevran probably gained fifty experience points.

From learning her weak points, though, she also learned her weak points.

Unfair, that was unfair. That voice and that accent right in her ear like that…

_“Who knew you’d end up such a loose woman?”_

Her heart sank.

That’s right…

She can’t.

No matter how right it felt, no matter how comfortable it felt…

She just… can’t.

The one who wasn’t fair wasn’t him…

It was her.


	28. How the Cat and Her Companions Wandered Towards a Lost Village

Kallian had figured out where the Urn of Sacred Ashes might be, according to Brother Genitivi’s research notes, it was a little known village in the Frostback Mountains called Haven. She had also finished her own studying of Flemeth’s grimoire, to her complete and utter horror.

“Kallian, I have been studying Mother’s grimoire,” she stated before Kallian had a chance to go down to the tavern to tell the others of her findings, “do you wish to hear what I have found?”

“Sure,” Kallian replied, “what did you find?”

“‘Tis… not what I expected,” she explained, “I had hoped for a collection of her spells, a map of the power that she commands… but this is not it.”

“You… look disturbed,” Kallian noted.

“Disturbed? Yes, perhaps that is the right word. One thing in particular within her writings disturbs me,” she replied, “here, in great detail, Flemeth explains the means by which she has survived for centuries.”

“If I were Alistair,” Kallian commented, “I’d ask if she drinks blood, or eats children.”

“That, is closer to the truth than you might think,” she sighed, “Flemeth has raised many daughters over her long lifetime. There are stories of these many Witches of the Wilds throughout Chasind legend, yet I have never seen a one and always wondered why not… and now I know. They are all Flemeth. When her body becomes old and wizened, she raises a daughter, and when the time is right, she takes her daughter’s body for her own.”

“…So then she’s not really immortal.”

“Whatever spark of the demon that made her what she is remains within her, keeps her dying of old age… but her body deteriorates, eventually, she would be so wizened as to be senseless and immobile. So she must seek a new body, a fresh body, and start the cycle anew.”

“You’re certain about this?”

“Indeed, that is primarily what this tome details: the various daughters that Flemeth has… acquired, their preparation and training… I recognize all of it. I am to be her next host. This is my purpose.”

“Can this body be anyone? Or must it be a daughter?”

“I am… uncertain. According to her writings, certain hosts are better than others. The more a host is prepared, the quicker… the transition will be. I am… sorry, this simply takes me by surprise. I would have thought I would have had some inkling, some notion…”

“I would feel the same,” Kallian shuddered, “what an awful thought.”

“I am a fool, I am such a fool!”

“Now this brings one question to the forefront of my mind: why would she risk sending you with me?” Kallian bit the nail of her thumb, “she _knew_ we would be seeking out the mages at Kinloch Hold, and therefore must have known that you would come across her lost grimoire. I suspect she also knows you enough to not go down without a fight.”

“I do not know, perhaps ‘tis as she said: the Darkspawn threaten her as much as they threaten anyone else, or perhaps she believes that this journey will make me more powerful… According to the tome, if the… host… is already powerful and trained in magic, it takes far less time for Flemeth to… settle in.”

“Then, if you died, she would have another daughter?”

“Not by any natural means… perhaps I should take this as a vote of confidence from her on my capabilities? Or perhaps she simply wished me gone from the Korcari Wilds so she could prepare her ritual in peace… a disturbing thought.”

“Hmm… so, what do you intend to do?”

“There is only one possible response to this: Flemeth needs to die. I will not sit about like an empty sack waiting to be filled. Flemeth must be slain and I need your help to do it.”

“Why do you need my help?”

“Because if she is slain while I am near, I am not certain that she will not simply be able to take possession of me right there. So obviously I cannot be the one to do it.”

“I see… for the record: you say I’m like Flemeth, but I would _never_ snatch someone else’s body, that’s way too extreme, even for me… I’ll do it though.”

“Truly?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you and Flemeth get along so well…”

“Are you trying to talk me out of killing her, or what? I’m getting mixed messages here.”

“No… ‘tis just… I did not expect you to agree so readily…”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re in danger, and I’m not going to allow someone I care about be in danger.”

She always appreciated this, the amount Kallian cared about others… She remembered the conversation in Redcliffe, where Kallian had stated she was motivated by love. Kallian’s love and desire to protect others made her strong, seemingly invincible… Yet even she could tell that there was a deep sadness to her.

“Then what needs to be done is for you to go back to Flemeth’s hut in the Korcari Wilds… without me. Confront her, and slay her quickly, I doubt she will truly be dead even then, but it will take her years to find a new host and recover her power… if that is even possible… The thing I must have is her true grimoire. With it, I can defend against her power in the future… Everything else in her hut is yours.”

“We’ll be returning to Ostagar at some point,” Kallian nodded, “it’ll be done on our way there.”

“I am grateful, the sooner this can be done, the sooner it will set my mind at ease.”

“Of course,” Kallian replied before handing her a doll that looked like… Alistair?

“A doll? You’re giving me a doll that looks like Alistair?”

“For when he angers you,” Kallian replied, “or when you need something to abuse when annoyed.”

“I see, how devious of you,” she smiled, “I think I shall do just that.”

As Kallian pulled her map out of her pack and left for the tavern, she cast a small spell on the doll, and stuck a pin through it, and smiled when she heard a loud yelp coming from downstairs.

***

Flemeth stole bodies… scary.

Though at current she was at the point where her thoughts were basically: you want my body? Okay, sure, have fun. I was getting tired of everything anyway.

Magic really was crazy, in her past world body snatching was a science fiction plot, but here, it’s a reality, huh?

She set the map down on a table in the tavern with a sigh. There was a lot to do at the moment, and she had an appointment to keep with Ignacio later. One she needed to attend to alone, which meant having to lose Zevran and Leliana at all costs, and if it were at all costs, then there were methods for it. She’d given him an address and told him she didn’t care how many people he brought with him but assured him she was coming alone. There were things she needed to know, Zevran had mentioned that the Crows would be after him for having failed, and she wanted to know if someone _had_ been hired after him. In return, she’d give him information on the guard rotation of an Arl’s estate.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

For now, she needed to chart their course, she still wanted to see Arl Eamon cured as soon as possible since she didn’t know how much time the demon had bought them exactly. So, perhaps they should go to Redcliffe, get some updates, report what they’ve found, and then head to Haven. 

Hopefully they’ll be able to find the Holy Grail.

There’s still the matter of the Brecilian Forest, which was on the way to Redcliffe. Not only that but there was still Soldier’s Peak, and Orzammar…

“Thoughts?” Alistair asked.

“I still want to get Arl Eamon cured as soon as possible,” she answered, “but there are a lot of other things on the way to there, but I’m still worried about his health and the adverse effects of his coma.”

“You marked Flemeth’s hut on the map,” Alistair pointed out.

“Yeah, we gotta go kill her on the way to Ostagar, or on our way back from Ostagar.”

“…What?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“So she doesn’t body snatch Morrigan.”

“…”

“Yep… Alright, yeah, okay, we’ll go to Redcliffe, trade information, and then head to Haven, return to Redcliffe, move to Flemeth’s hut, Ostagar, back to Redcliffe… After that, it’s a question on whether we head to Orzammar next or the Brecilian Forest… Alright, we’ll leave Denerim tomorrow morning.”

“By the way, Robin?”

“Yeah?”

“I think you used the phrase ‘age is relative’ wrongly yesterday.”

“…Yeah, a lot of phrases and sayings have a tendency to get mixed up in my head easily. I’m not always as smart as you try to make me out to be. Then again, sometimes I just like saying things to see how long it’ll take for me to get called out on it. Unfortunately, this wasn’t one of those times. I’m just as fallible as anyone else.”

In her defense, she had twenty-three plus eighteen years of experience and lessons to sort through… What was twenty-three plus eighteen again?

She gave up, she hated mental math.

“Also, Robin,” Alistair said as she got up to return the map to her room, “can I ask you for a favor?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“What it is.”

“Fair enough,” Alistair replied, “could you… go gift shopping with me? Before we leave?”

“Of course,” she said with a sly grin, “it would be my pleasure, though currently, I have a few things I need to take care of.”

“Oh? Where are we going?” Zevran asked.

“ _We_ aren’t going anywhere,” she replied leaving the tavern to return to her room, “ _I_ am going somewhere, and nobody else is invited.”

She quickly packed weapons, and left through the window, after telling Morrigan to tell people that she was doing things and couldn’t be disturbed.

Seriously, can’t a woman have some time alone? Did they have to be constantly worried about what she was doing, and what business she was getting mixed up in? She was an adult, she could more than handle herself. Then again, she didn’t tell anyone that she also had twenty-three years of information on her side, and she was never going to. They’d probably think she’d been possessed or something. She was still probably the youngest of them, so their worry made sense, though they also knew one of her biggest secrets now. Surely they could understand that she could more than handle herself now, right?

With a sigh she slipped through the alleys, careful to make sure she wasn’t being tailed by either Leliana, Zevran, or both as she entered various inns and brothels and then left through their back entrances as she made her way to her destination.

She sat down in a tavern and crossed her legs as she ordered a drink, opened a book, and waited.

“I’m surprised that you managed to come without alerting any of your companions,” Ignacio said sitting across from her.

“I avoided you for years,” she replied putting her book to the side, “if I couldn’t lose them then… What have I even been doing with myself?”

“So, what did you want to know?” Ignacio asked, “information for information is what we agreed on, after all.”

“Was someone hired after Zevran?” she asked, “or anyone else traveling with us?”

“A man he’s familiar with, Taliesen,” Ignacio answered, “though other Crows may try to kill him.”

“This is the Arl’s estate you need to get into, right?” she sighed procuring a drawn map and passing him another note, “these are the rotations… and from what I know, there’s a blind spot… here, that you should be able to get in through.”

“Thank you,” Ignacio said, “now if that is all, I will be on my way.”

“As will I,” she replied paying for her drink and leaving.

A man he’s familiar with, huh? In a good way, or a bad way? Knowing her luck… it wouldn’t end well.

Has she ruined him as well?

***

His Warden had disappeared, and neither he nor Leliana had any chance of finding her while they were in Denerim. If she didn’t want to be found, she wouldn’t be, she had so many secrets and so many faces. He wondered if he’d ever learn enough to persuade her to stray from her path if he’d ever be able to stop her from her desired end. He remembered last night, her squeak, and her face before she ran.

Of course, he’d be attracted to a woman who was both beauty and beast. She was a monster, but so was he. She was broken, but so was he. Why did she see herself as beyond redemption, but him still capable of it? He didn’t understand, but he wanted to. 

“You look troubled,” Kallian said, her face curiously peering up at him, “is it my fault?”

“Of course it is,” he frowned as she stepped away from him, “how could it not be?”

“Sorry,” Kallian apologized before noticing Alistair, “ah, I’m gonna go help Darrian go gift shopping now.”

After a bit of thought, he brushed a featherlight touch against her ear, and her entire body jolted, as she slapped her hand over her ear and stared at him in alarm. Her face already bright red.

Ah-ha, sensitive ears, was her neck just as sensitive?

“While in _public?!_ ” Kallian hissed.

“Ah-ha, so it’s fine while we’re not in public, yes?” he grinned and realization dawned on her face.

“I really set myself up for that one,” Kallian sighed before fleeing towards the direction she’d seen Alistair in, “you wanted to go gift shopping?”

“Oh, are you free right now?” Alistair asked and Kallian nodded, “what do you think Elissa would like?”

“Well, what were you thinking of getting her?” Kallian asked.

“I was thinking… something floral,” Alistair answered, “like a rose.”

“How about an accessory?” Kallian asked, “you can get her a hairpin, or you can get her one that she can pin on her clothes.”

“What would you like?” Alistair asked.

“I like hair accessories,” Kallian answered, “but I’m not sure if Elissa would… why don’t we check an accessory shop first and you can decide from there.”

He still hadn’t given her the hairpin, since her hair was stuffed under a hat while they were in Denerim.

“Good idea,” Alistair replied and Kallian led them into an accessory shop.

“How about this?” Kallian asked holding up a rose corsage, “this one can be pinned on her clothes, and tied around her wrist.”

“Hmmm… I think something like that would be good,” Alistair replied, “but not that one.”

“Okay, what about this one?” Kallian asked holding up another one.

“Mmm… no,” Alistair replied before picking up one, “what do you think of this one?”

“Yeah, that one looks nice too,” Kallian replied, “by the way Zevran, why are you tagging along?”

“Maybe not this one,” Alistair said putting it back down and picked up another one, “what about this one? No, never mind, not this one.”

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?” he asked in return, “you get into so much mischief my dear, is it strange for me to be curious as to what you get up to?”

“I suppose not,” Kallian replied, “but isn’t this boring?”

“Of course not,” he grinned before picking one up, “how about this one, my friend?”

“Oh! That one looks nice too,” Kallian said.

“I think I’ll go with that one,” Alistair said taking it from him.

While Alistair’s back was turned to them, he trailed a soft touch against her the side of her neck and she jolted again as she turned to glower at him.

Oh-ho, her neck was sensitive as well, was it?

He wondered where else she was sensitive, her reactions were humorous, and it made him want to tease her. She could tell he was enjoying himself and made a face at him. If she wanted to have her innumerable amount of secrets, surely he should be allowed to tease her like this. Not only that, but she was also constantly teasing him about this and that, such as his skill with lock-picking. They both knew that if she wanted him to stop, she would have told him to, and he would have complied with her wishes. She was sly, and cheeky, but clearly unafraid of putting people in their place, as evidenced in the secret she’d revealed to them.

“Alright, now that that’s settled,” Kallian stretched her arms, “I’m going to go buy things to make our trip to Haven easier… There were also some other things I wanted to look into.”

“Oh? Such as?” he asked.

“Current events around Ferelden,” Kallian answered, “I’m not sure if we should go to Orzammar or the Brecilian Forest after we cure Arl Eamon, so I’m hoping to make my decision by seeing what I can find out.”

“Wow, you gave an actual answer,” Alistair commented in surprise.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kallian furrowed her brows.

“You always say you’re going to do ‘stuff’ and ‘things’ and ‘run some errands’,” Alistair answered, “but then none of us know where you go, or what you get up too.”

“He has a point,” he nodded, “you do tend to get up to an alarming amount of mischief.”

“Well, I can’t help it,” Kallian stuck her tongue out at him, “also, I think I’m getting wilder and becoming even more of a cat and I think it’s everyone else’s fault.”

If they weren’t in the Market, with Alistair in tow, he would have stolen her lips. It was as if she were taunting him.

“Why?” Alistair asked.

“I didn’t use to be this bad,” Kallian answered flatly, before waving them away, “now shoo-shoo. Mother has things she wants to accomplish.”

Leliana decided to join them, as they did a few more things for that man, Slim.

“We have many things in common, Zevran,” Leliana hummed.

“Other than our purity and beauty?” he asked.

“We both spent many years in places other than Ferelden,” Leliana answered, “you are an assassin, and I, a bard.”

“Then you were called upon to kill,” he replied.

“Often, I didn’t like it,” Leliana replied, “but I did it anyway.”

“You didn’t like it?” he asked, “you didn’t like the thrill of the hunt?”

“I suppose… I did like that,” Leliana admitted, “the hunt… not the killing.”

“The killing just signals the end of the hunt,” he replied, “without it, the chase goes on. You killed your marks cleanly, I hope.”

“Whenever possible,” Leliana replied.

“Good, when the prey is caught, it deserves a good death, a clean death…” he replied, “perhaps you are right, we have much in common.”

His Warden had stayed silent throughout that entire exchange, her back to them, but she was probably making a rather humorous face considering recent revelations about her. How she baited people and manipulated them to do her bidding without even knowing of her involvement.

“Did you enjoy it, my dear?” he asked with a grin.

“Maybe… a little…” Kallian replied looking to the side.

“What was your favorite part?” he asked still grinning at her.

“I liked their faces when they realized they’d been had,” Kallian admitted hanging her head in shame, “I know, I have problems.”

“Provided you keep it to those who prey on others like that,” Leliana hummed, “I think it’s alright… the ones you targeted were rapists, and molesters, no?”

“Yep,” Kallian nodded, “I can’t stand men who think they can do anything they want to a woman without any retribution. It pisses me off.”

“A vigilante then, hm?” he asked.

“Pretty much,” Kallian pursed her lips.

“Well, don’t worry, my dear,” he chuckled, “your secret is safe with us.”

“By the way,” Leliana said, “I’ve never seen you use that weapon before.”

“The nine-section whip chain?” Kallian replied, “I wouldn’t use it in a fight where I had allies in the first place.”

“Oh? Why would that be, my dear?” he asked.

It was still hard to not call her ‘my dear Warden’.

“I’m not confident in my abilities to not kill allies with it on accident,” Kallian answered, “it’s used with constant motion, so it can be hard to keep track of, and the weight of the nail is enough to shatter bones… it’s a devastating weapon, that demands a high degree of coordination and skill. Anything less and you’ll end up either knocking yourself out or worse. I can do a demonstration later, but it’s probably the deadliest weapon I have in my arsenal.”

“To think that you would take out not only a group of men,” he mused, “but also a group of Darkspawn… we clearly underestimated you.”

Unlike him, Kallian was neither cocky nor was she arrogant. She didn’t brag about her achievements, and she wasn’t ashamed of what she’d done. Despite their revelations, his biggest question in regards to her still went unanswered: why did she want to die? Why did she feel the need to keep the reason behind her recruitment secret? He still hadn’t told her his own reasons for wanting to die, and part of him wondered if she’d tell him hers even if he were to.

After collecting some information, his Warden decided that the Brecilian Forest would be next, Orzammar was just going through a crisis from losing their king, while the Dalish were suffering from… Werewolves of all things.

They spent the rest of the day spreading false rumors saying that Elissa died, in order to protect the Teyrna and Redcliffe from others… His Warden truly was a rather devious minx.

***

“Come to think of it,” Kallian said, “you said something on Human wisdom?”

“Perhaps if Humans sought wisdom, beyond the walls of Chantry’s,” he answered, “they might find it now and then.”

“Won’t argue there,” Kallian sighed, “I’ve always wondered why people turn to religion as being the only source of knowledge.”

“It is strange to hear someone agree in these lands,” he replied.

“What I seek is wisdom, knowledge, and understanding,” Kallian replied, “and often times they can only be grasped by discarding what you already know in order to change the way you think.”

“What? There is wisdom in the Chant, you know,” Leliana said.

“Then someone should release it into the wild, it is in danger of dying out,” he stated, there was a reason Kallian was the only one who he enjoyed debating these subjects with, she was not ignorant, she listened, and considered, “tell me: where is the wisdom in crying for a derelict god to save you?”

“There isn’t any,” Kallian nodded, “in the end, people need to save themselves… they may seek help from others, but the only person who can truly save someone is themselves.”

“My people have a tale: a great _ashkaari_ during his travels came upon a village in the desert, there he found the houses crumbling: the earth so dry and dead that the people tied themselves to each other for fear a strong wind would carry the ground out from under their feet. Nothing grew there except the bitter memory of gardens. The _ashkaari_ stopped the first man he saw, and asked ‘what happened here?’, ‘drought came. And the world changed from prosperity to ruin,’ the man told him. ‘Change it back,’ the _ashkaari_ replied. The villager became angry then, believing the _ashkaari_ mocked him, for no one could simply change the world on a whim. To which the _ashkaari_ answered, ‘then change yourself. You make your own world.’.”

“Agreed, the world is what you make of it,” Kallian said, “instead of looking to blame others and the world around us, we should first look within ourselves.”

“Believe in whatever you like: absent creators, or whimsical god. Follow prophets, or _ashkaari_ , or omens in the earth and sky,” he nodded, “you will find wisdom only if you seek it.”

“At the end of the day,” Kallian said, “we must acknowledge that wisdom cannot only be grasped from religion. It’s something that can be learned by observing the world as it is.”

“Are you certain you do not wish to join the Qun?” he asked.

“Quite,” Kallian replied before pulling out a familiar-looking book, one he hadn’t seen since he’d left Seheron, “do you know what this is? The bookshop owner just said it was something related to the Qun.”

“It is a book about the Qunari Prayers for the Dead,” he answered as she gave it to him, “I did not think I would see one in these lands.”

“You can have it,” Kallian replied, “since I can’t read any of these words.”

“You have my thanks,” he replied taking the book.

“No worries,” Kallian replied with a grin.

***

_To know that you do not know is highest_  
 _To not know but think you know is flawed_  
 _Only when one recognizes the fault as a fault can one be without fault_  
 _The sages are without fault_  
 _Because they recognize the fault as a fault_  
 _That is why they are without fault_

She will savor her last night able to sleep in a proper bed for who knows how much longer, and her last proper bath for just as long. Though she wasn’t looking forward to sleeping, she hadn’t been since they left the Circle, fucking sloth demons. Unfortunately, sleep was a requirement of all living beings. So to procrastinate on sleeping… she was currently sitting on a roof, hugging her legs to her. Throughout this entire journey, her dreams only just kept hounding her, everyone she’d failed to save staring at her, everyone she was only fast enough to watch die…

“On a clouded night.  
My wishes go unfulfilled  
Nothing else matters.”

She cringed, that was terrible, she was never good at _haiku_. Fitting the syllabic format was difficult, in English… Common… whatever language she was currently speaking right now. If it were in Japanese it’d probably be easier, since she wouldn’t have to count the syllables on her fingers. Too bad she didn’t want to risk people thinking she was possessed.

Someone sat down next to her, and she didn’t even need to look to know who it was. It was an annoyingly comfortable presence, a presence that felt annoyingly right. As if all were well in the world by simple virtue of being near her. 

It was annoying because she didn’t even know what to do with herself anymore.

Said presence also helped her recover a bit of her sanity, which made it even more confounding.

She buried her face into her knees.

“You sure you don’t want to visit one of the brothels?” she asked, “I’m sure if you dropped my name you could get a discount.”

“My dear, there is only one woman in the world who I want to ‘vent my frustrations’ with, as you put it,” Zevran replied, “but no amount of coin in the world would be enough to buy her… not that I would like there to be, precisely.”

“That so?”

“Truthfully, it’s part of her… allure. I will admit, that I would like to ravish her, one day. Spoil her and fill her head with thoughts of only me. For now, however, I am content simply being near her.”

She was glad her face was currently buried in her knees, she could feel it burning.

“I’m sure you can find a woman willing to bed you who would give you far more satisfaction than she ever could.”

“Perhaps, but that won’t change the fact that the only one I want is her… I don’t think another woman would be able to sate my… desires.”

“You’ll never know unless you try.”

“I suppose, but for now, I am willing to wait until she is ready.”

“Sounds like you’ll be waiting for the rest of your life.”

“That is fine with me, a gentleman would not sleep with a woman when he truly wants another, after all.”

“I’m guessing that asking you if there’s a man that could sate your, ‘desires’, as you put it, would yield the same answer?”

“Indeed it would.”

“I’m beginning to feel sorry for you.”

“Sorry enough to do something about it?”

“You already rejected my offer to get you a discount at one of the brothels in Denerim,” she replied sticking her tongue out at him, “so t—”

Lips on hers cut off her words and wiped thought from her mind, as she waged an internal war, a tongue sought out hers making her jolt and gently push him away.

“I told you, you—”

“Shouldn’t? And if I wanted to anyway?”

“Then I shouldn’t,” she replied before calmly leaving, leaping down from the roof and a few steps away before fleeing at full sprint.

Her heart pounding in her chest, as her mind raced through a million thoughts of denial.

Couldn’t. It couldn’t feel right. It couldn’t feel comfortable. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel comfortable. She can’t. He can’t. They both can’t.

Mind over matter preserve her.

***

Denerim was a day behind them now, and he didn’t have to get make-up caked on his face and answer to another name.

“You seem happy, Alistair,” Kallian commented.

“Of course I’m happy,” he replied, “I don’t have to get my face covered and answer to a different name.”

“Yeah, I like being Kallian more than any of my other faces,” Kallian nodded.

“How many faces do you have?” he asked.

“About… five I think?” Kallian replied.

“How do you keep track of all of them?”

“This is how I grew up,” Kallian sighed, “let’s see three weeks to Redcliffe and another week and a half maybe to Haven, weather permitting.”

“I’m wondering, Morrigan,” Leliana said behind them, and Kallian cringed, “do you believe in the Maker?”

“Certainly not,” Morrigan scoffed, “I’ve no primitive fear of the moon such that I must place my faith in tales so that I may sleep at night.”

“But this can’t all be an accident… Spirits, magic, all these wondrous things around us, both dark and light,” Leliana replied, “you know these things exist.”

“The fact of their existence does not presuppose an intelligent design by some absentee father-figure,” Morrigan replied.

“So it is all random, then?” Leliana replied, “a happy coincidence that we are all here?”

“Attempting to impose order over chaos is futile,” Morrigan replied, “nature is, by its very nature, chaotic.”

“I don’t believe that,” Leliana replied, “I believe we have a purpose. All of us.”

“Yours, apparently being to bother me,” Morrigan groaned.

“By the way, Alistair think fast,” Kallian said before tossing something at him.

He caught it, it was a Grey Warden hand puppet.

“Reason?” he asked.

“Dunno, seemed like something you might like?” Kallian shrugged, “basically: I saw it and thought of you.”

“So tell me, Wynne, do you have any children? Grandchildren?” he asked, “I don’t know, great-grandchildren?”

“What would make you think I have any children at all?” Wynne asked, “you have to know I’ve spent most of my life in the Circle of Magi.”

“You just seem like the grandmotherly type to me,” he replied, “I don’t know.”

“I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment on my demeanor,” Wynne sighed, “and not my age.”

“Mages aren’t forbidden to marry or anything, are they?” he asked, “it’s not such an outlandish question.”

“Isn’t it? What sort of man would marry a mage, do you think?”

“How about another mage? There are just as many men as there are women within the Circle, as I recall.”

“That sort of union is… not encouraged. Although that does not stop us from seeking out each others… company from time to time.”

“I… alright, suddenly you don’t seem quite so grandmotherly to me anymore.”

“Good, I would hope not,” Wynne replied.

***

_“Then I shouldn’t.”_

He knew why she shouldn’t it was for the same reason he shouldn’t. In her mind, her destiny was clear, it was to end the Blight, and then die, either by her own hand or someone else’s.

“Those Crows of yours, Zevran,” Morrigan asked, “are they as extraordinary as you claim?”

“They all but rule over my homeland,” he replied, “do you find that extraordinary?”

“If true, are they so powerful simply because they are very good at what they do?” Morrigan asked, “or is there some secret to their power.”

“If there were a secret,” he replied, “it would only remain so if it were not told, my dear.”

“You are no longer bound to such a code,” Morrigan pointed out, “or do you believe their wrath will be greater than it already is, should you speak out of turn?”

“It may be that I simply do not wish to tell you,” he replied, “you get the most delightful wrinkle in your brow when you are curious.”

“I see,” Morrigan grumbled, “you are impossibly frustrating. You know this.”

“I do,” he laughed, “it is part of my charm, or so I’m told.”

He sat down next to his Warden, who had a book open in one hand, another hand running through Diana’s fur, and one leg crossed over the other. Her eyes briefly flicked over to him before returning to her book. It was mildly frustrating that his Warden was doing her damnedest to pretend that nothing happened. 

And succeeding at it, for the most part.

“Yes?” Kallian asked.

“May I play with your hair a little, my dear Warden?” he asked and she looked at him suspiciously, “I promise I won’t do anything.”

He preferred calling her his Warden, thinking of her as his Warden…

Did he want her to be his?

He did.

“I suppose,” Kallian sighed.

When it wasn’t up, her hair was long, a rich scarlet like a river of blood, he gently ran his fingers through it. It was wavy, likely due to the way she styled it. The hand she’d been using to pet Diana moved to offer him one of the braided cords she usually used to tie it up. He took it, for now, he was simply enjoying the feeling of her hair beneath his fingers. How should he arrange it? What would be the best hairstyle to match the pin he got her?

Leliana was grinning at him from across the fire as he braided her hair, almost the same way he styled his own hair before pinning it with the pin in the back.

“I didn’t give you a pin, did I?” Kallian asked a hand reaching up to where he had placed the pin.

“No, but I gave you one,” he answered with a smooth grin.

“Whoaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa,” Kallian’s hand clapped over her mouth, “that was so smooth that I don’t even know how to react.”

“Has no one lavished you with praise, my dear Warden?” he asked, it still amazed him how she wasn’t aware of her own charms, of her own beauty.

“Appearance-wise?” Kallian replied, “not at all… Most of the men in the Alienage avoided me… was never clear on why.”

“Perhaps they were simply intimidated by how beautiful you are,” he replied.

“I highly doubt that was it,” Kallian replied wryly, “appearance-wise, I don’t think I’m anything special.”

“Are you being serious with me?” he asked.

“Quite,” Kallian replied, “the only men who approached me were Humans, for obvious reasons.”

He sighed heavily, he still didn’t understand why the men in the Alienage would leave her alone to this point. He may have yet to see her body in its entirety, but judging from what he’d felt when he caught her falling after dealing with Connor, he had no doubts that she was well-proportioned if a little slender. She was beautiful, even with her scars, and he wished she would allow him to worship her as she deserved.

***

Kallian was approaching her with a fat lute in hand, she’d taken to wearing the hairpin Zevran had gifted her easily enough. Something that made her smile, and she could tell Zevran was quite proud of it too.

“I saw it in Denerim and thought of you,” Kallian said with a grin, “care to play us a song or two?”

“It would be my pleasure,” she replied with a smile taking the lute from her.

Zevran sat next to Kallian, who had her elbows propped on her knees with her chin in her hands a smile on her face, eyes closed as she listened. Kallian apparently still couldn’t decide what she wanted to do about Zevran, but he seemed to be weathering it happily enough. They kept dancing around each other, and as humorous as it was to watch, she couldn’t help but pity Zevran. She wished Kallian would just allow herself to enjoy being with Zevran, but she seemed adamant on trying to not. 

She was beginning to see it: a deep-seated sadness in her eyes. There was a reason she was attempting to push him away, but she wouldn’t tell anyone what that reason was even if asked. What could have happened to make her decide to live in misery? Even though she laughed, even though she smiled, that sadness never left her. Zevran probably noticed it first, it was probably one of the reason’s he was so drawn to her, there was sadness in his eyes as well. But while he was willing to move past his, Kallian stood still and allowed it to consume her. She wondered what Kallian had been like before.

***

She crossed her legs in Redcliffe’s tavern, Elissa sitting across from her. They’d spend another day in Redcliffe, so they could get their laundry done and grab last-minute supplies. Also, so she could recover her sanity a bit, these extended rests really did wonders for her. Proper meals, proper beds, proper baths… There were no villages between Redcliffe and Haven, she _needed_ this. She still had yet to read through the books she’d gotten on the previous Blights, she’ll get to it eventually, but not right now, because her sanity was important to her.

“How is Arl Eamon’s condition?” she asked.

“For good or ill, it hasn’t changed,” Elissa sighed, “have you heard anything new?”

“I have good news, bad news,” she answered, “and news I don’t even really understand. What do you want me to hit you with first?”

“Bad news.”

“Arl Howe has control over Denerim,” she answered, “he’s been made the Arl of Denerim since the Kendalls’ have apparently been wiped out.”

Vaughan’s Father died and from the rumors, she’s heard from various barkeepers: he was assassinated.

By the Crows.

Hired by Vaughan.

Who she killed in a fit of madness induced rage.

She regret nothing, the Alienage would have suffered terribly under that sick sadistic entitled little piece of shit who was also a garbage waste of space. Though from other rumors, there were a lot of people who were incredibly thankful he’d died, and that it was the work of the Maker. If true, in her eyes, the Maker’s sadism knew no bounds.

She was glad she’s been getting better at keeping track of her facial expressions, otherwise, it would most likely look absolutely _menacing_ and given her ability to intimidate people… yeah…

“Good news?”

“More and more banns are standing against Loghain… and I’ve been spreading rumors that you’ve died through various different channels.”

“News that doesn’t make sense?”

“In Brother Genitivi’s home in Denerim, there was an impostor, pretending to be his assistant, Weylon. Still don’t really understand why that was a thing, but it was.”

“Do you at least know where the Urn might be?”

“Village called Haven, we’ll be heading there next.”

“You look tired,” Elissa noted.

“I am in _desperate_ need of a laugh,” she admitted, “being serious for this long has never been good for me.”

“Well, unfortunately, we need you to be,” Elissa replied sadly.

“I know, I know, and I live to serve,” she replied, “ah, there was one more thing that happened… We found one of Cailan’s Honor Guard, he’d been locked up in Bann Loren’s prison… I have suspicions that Cailan knew Loghain was going to stab him in the back, which was why he sent Alistair to the Tower of Ishal with me.”

“So that Alistair could become the next King of Ferelden,” Elissa said lifting her hand to her chin in thought, “I’m guessing you told him?”

“Yep, don’t want to get yelled at for withholding important information again,” she replied with a salute before standing up, “in any case, I’m going to go do something with myself to relax for a bit.”

Fuck her dreams, she was going to take a thousand naps and not care because sleep is one of the best medicines.

Also sleepy.

***

His heart was in his throat as he made sure Kallian was _definitely_ not around.

“Here, look at this,” he said handing Elissa the rose corsage, “do you know what this is?”

“…Your new weapon of choice?” Elissa asked raising a brow.

“Yes, that’s right! Watch as I thrash our enemies with the mighty power of floral arrangements!” he said nervously, “feel my thorns, Darkspawn! I will overpower you with my rosy scent! Or… You know, it could just be a rose corsage. I know that’s pretty dull in comparison.”

“Sentiment can be a pretty potent weapon,” Elissa replied with a soft smile.

“I saw it while we were in Denerim and thought of you,” he admitted, “and when I saw it, I just… had to get it for you.”

“Feeling a little thorny, are we?” Elissa smirked.

“Wow, ‘she’ll never see through that,’ I told myself,” he chuckled nervously, “boy was I wrong.”

“Oh, relax,” Elissa laughed, “I happen to like it.”

A _very_ familiar snort came, but this time, from a crate, and it felt like his face was on fire.

“S— sorry, sorry, I—I was go—going to take a—a nap,” Kallian said clearly holding back her laughter, “I— I’ll get— I’ll get out of your bu—business n—now!”

Kallian ran away.

“…I should have known she would be somewhere,” Elissa groaned, “I thought she’d still be at the inn… where I’d last seen her.”

“I am never going to live this down, am I?” he sighed.

“Oh relax, she was just telling me that she was ‘in desperate need of a laugh’,” Elissa sighed, “so I suppose it’s for the best.”

“She did tell us that she used to take naps in crates all the time,” he replied, “I guess I just… didn’t believe her… but I suppose we have been just… relying on her for everything.”

“We really have,” Elissa agreed, “she’s extremely competent and reliable, so it’s hard not to.”

“Still, we should probably give her something of a break,” he sighed, “besides the ones she imposes on us because those are actually for our benefit.”

“She told me about her suspicions with King Cailan,” Elissa sighed.

“And if I were made King, I would want to make her a noble,” he nodded, “of some sort… I don’t know.”

“We could give her Gwaren,” Elissa replied, “it’ll need a new Teyrna when this is over.”

“Oohh… good idea,” he replied, “for everything she’s been through, that woman deserves the world.”

“Agreed,” Elissa nodded.

***

They were a few days away from Redcliffe, and he was not sure what he wanted from his Warden anymore, and he could tell the feeling was mutual.

Though, he did enjoy seeing her wear the pin he gifted her.

“Might I offer you a bit of advice,” he said, “my good friend Alistair?”

“I like my hair the way it is, thank you,” Alistair replied.

“Truly? As you wish… though my advice is regarding something else completely,” he replied, “it has to do with your recent… exertions with your dear Teyrna that I overheard.”

“My…?” Alistair balked face immediately turning red, “…oh.”

“It did seem as if you just got going when all grew quiet,” he stated, “you are… feeling alright, yes? Perhaps you are tired?”

“We aren’t talking about this, are we?” Alistair asked, “did I hit my head?”

“I have some roots from home that you may chew if you need energy,” he offered, “as for volume, perhaps you ought to try arching your—”

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Alistair shouted covering his ears with his hands, “awkward!”

“You Fereldens are so finicky,” he sighed, “how will you ever learn to pleasure each other unless you talk about it?”

“Kalli, do something about him!” Alistair shouted, but his Warden was far too busy not paying attention to what was happening. Cooing as she fussed over Diana, before standing up to leave and moving towards a tree, until he saw something familiar in her hands, and rushed to take it from her.

“Hey! That’s mine!” Kallian frowned reaching for the bottle of brandy he’d taken from her.

It was hard keeping it from her grasp, but he persevered, it was brandy. Antivan brandy, and _good_ Antivan brandy.

As much as he enjoyed seeing her happy, he hasn’t had Antivan brandy in so long.

“Yes, well, now it’s mine,” he replied, “I will get you a different brandy, that should suffice, yes?”

“But I wanted _that_ one,” Kallian replied puffing her cheeks out, and he couldn’t resist his instincts.

His lips covered hers, and just as expected, she froze, before jolting and pulling away from him.

If she simply asked, he would spoil her terribly. Until she became completely corrupted. Until nothing in her world existed except for him.

“Fine, you can have that one,” Kallian huffed before marching away leaving him with his bottle of Antivan brandy, and instead of leaping into a tree, she moved to sulk while listening to Leliana play her new lute and sing. He went over and bought a different brandy from Bodahn and sat next to his sulking Warden, offering it to her. She sighed and took it from him.

In regards to him, his Warden truly was like a cat, shower her with too much affection and she’ll run. Ignore her and she’ll come to you in her own time. Don’t bother her too much, and she’ll allow you to exist in the same space as her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Tao Te Ching Chapter Seventy-One_


	29. How the Cat Found a Little Known Village

_She was surrounded by a sea of faces, people she was too slow and incompetent to save._

_An endless cacophony resonating throughout her mind._

_“Too slow, you were too slow.”_

_“Now you just get to watch me die.”_

_She pressed her hands to her ears._

_“You were the reason I died,” Nelaros snarled, “and yet here you are, already getting involved with another man… Would you even have been faithful to me?”_

_“I would!” she cried out in despair, “I would have!”_

_“Give. Us. What. We. Want,” the Masked woman said grabbing her by the neck and lifting her up._

_“No.”_

_Her body was slammed down, weapons appearing in her hands, but she was too tired to fight back._

They found a traveling merchant who was stranded.

“Err… you’ll have to forgive me if I seem a bit nervous, not many people traveling in this part of Ferelden,” the Merchant said, “of course, that’s part of my problem, isn’t it? Mule got spooked by a wisp and ran off into the woods. Now what do I do?”

“Are you asking us to find your mule?” she asked with a raised brow.

“Oh! No, no, I sent the Elf to do that. I mean I sent my helper, Tarren, nice fellow, that… Tarren,” Felix said quickly, “allow me to introduce myself: Felix de Grosbois, merchant and entrepreneur, at your service.”

“I am Kallian,” she replied, “pleased to meet you.”

“I don’t normally take this route, but with the war, I was hoping for a bit of luck and good weather in the mountains,” Felix sighed, “sadly, I’ve had neither. This trip has been one miserable disaster after another. I don’t suppose you’d… consider helping a fellow out?”

“What do you need?”

“Of all the other things that went wrong, the worst is this artifact I bought in Jader. It’s a ‘control rod’, I’m told, for a golem. No point in me keeping it, however, as I’ll never get to use it… but maybe you could?”

A golem? She was able to turn into one in the Fade… if she could use that as a shield…

“What does a control rod do?”

“The Dwarf I bought it from said it activates and controls a golem, so long as you have it in your hand, the golem does what you say. Might be useful, no? You look like the sort who could use one, yes?”

“What’s the catch?”

“The catch? Yes… I suppose it is a catch, isn’t it? The catch is that the golem didn’t come with the rod. It’s supposed to be down in a village down south, waiting to be activated… Even if I could get down there, which I can’t, I understand the place has been overrun by Darkspawn. That’s not such an issue for adventurous types like yourself, surely. Or I’m hoping that’s so, at least.”

“How do we know this will even work?” Alistair asked.

“The fellow I bought it from is a longstanding contact. He didn’t want to come to Ferelden, however, with all our… troubles. He said he got it from the man who owned this golem. But to be honest, I have no idea if it _will_ work… Hence the low, low price… What do you say?”

“How much?”

“Nothing, I just don’t want to have to lug around something that might be taken for a gemstone by some bandit… To be honest, I don’t even know if it’ll be useful to you. I paid too much to simply throw it away.”

“I’ll take it.”

“As I mentioned before, you’ll find the golem down south, in a town called Honnleath, I’ll mark it here on your map… just hold up the rod and say _'dulef gar'_. That will wake the golem up, so I’m told. I hope it works.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Wynne asked.

“Maybe you could look up the fellow who owned the golem before?” Felix replied, “if he’s still about, that is… Best of luck to you, then! Now, I guess it’s up to me to find that mule myself.”

She felt her eyes sparkling, she could flow around it as water flows around rocks in a stream.

They could go there before returning to Ostagar.

She sat down with a sigh next to the campfire, it’d been a day since they’d parted with Felix, and she hoped he found his mule.

“Oh, it’s been a long day,” Wynne sighed, “rest… rest would be welcome.”

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Yes… yes, of course, I am just a little… weary,” Wynne replied reassuringly, “as you may have noticed, I’m no spring chicken.”

“You’re still rather sprightly for your age,” she commented.

She didn’t know how old Wynne was, but she looked older than her grandfather had when she’d died, and he was in his nineties, and still going strong.

“Thank you, you’re very kind to say so,” Wynne replied, “but in all honesty, I do not know how many years I have left in me. I have lived for such a long time… But there is always something else to do, and I have to keep going in order to do it. I think I will be glad when I am… done.”

“I’m sure you’ll be kicking around for years yet,” she replied.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Wynne sighed, “I really don’t.”

“I confess, I feel much the same,” she admitted, “in that there is always something else to do and I have to keep standing up and in order to do it… I think I will also be glad when this whole business is over and done with. I would like to take a thousand-year nap once it’s over.”

“I feel the same,” Wynne chuckled, “tell me, have you encountered many abominations apart from the ones in the Circle Tower?”

“Well… there was Connor,” she sighed heavily, “that was… agony.”

“Ah, yes, Connor, of course,” Wynne replied sadly, “the first time I saw an abomination, my blood turned to ice. It was months before the nightmares stopped… It was the knowledge that I could easily become one of them that frightened me the most.”

“But this is the knowledge that drives you to be cautious,” she replied wryly.

“One slip… all it takes is one slip, and everything you are is simply… gone, replaced by madness… and there is no turning back, or at least that’s what they say.”

“Do you have doubts?”

“Of late, I have begun to wonder if… if there is any way an abomination can be… cured, or if a mage could be so possessed and still retain their sanity, their humanity.”

“I think that if one retains their humanity, they’re not an abomination.”

“Yes… it is madness and cruelty that define abominations. If those are lacking, if the mage remembers the person they truly are then… they are not an abomination. I never saw that… thank you for showing me another way of looking at it.”

“Mages aren’t the only ones who fear madness, though,” she commented, “I’ve been worrying about it myself lately.”

“Oh? Is that so?”

“The day I lose control of my sanity, is the day I need to end myself.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Power without control is a dangerous thing, magic is power… but there is another power people often forget: knowledge. Knowledge can be used for good or ill, just like anything else. People who are capable of great good, are just as capable of great evil. If I lose control, the knowledge I have can be used to commit grave sins. In fact, I’d even say I’d be far worse than any abomination. I would twist my compassion, patience, tolerance, understanding, and kindness into something so warped and twisted, and it wouldn’t be at the behest of a demon. It would be my own fault. Not only that, but charisma is also dangerous in the wrong hands. People flock to charismatic people with silver tongues, who can then poison people's minds… Like Uldred, I suppose. One does not have to be a mage to become a danger to society.”

“I’ve never thought of that…”

“You can just look at Loghain, he lost control of his senses, his judgment is clouded, and it is because of him that Uldred was able to deal that much damage to the Circle, it is because of him that Cailan was betrayed, it was because of him that Redcliffe suffered. And I’m pretty sure the only demons he’s doing it at the behest of are the ones in his own mind: his past experiences are twisting his thoughts, and making him lose sight of himself.”

“That is very true,” Wynne replied thoughtfully, and she decided to retreat to her own tent. 

She wondered how many more chapters of the _Tao Te Ching_ she’d be able to remember, she definitely wouldn’t be able to remember all of them.

_True words are not beautiful_  
_Beautiful words are not true_  
_Those who are good do not debate_  
_Those who debate are not good_  
_Those who know are not broad of knowledge_  
_Those who are broad of knowledge do not know_  
_Sages do not accumulate_  
_The more they assist others, the more they possess_  
_The more they give to others, the more they gain_  
_The Way of heaven_  
_Benefits and does not harm_  
_The Way of sages_  
_Assists and does not contend._

Glancing at the pack containing the books on the previous Blights, she picked up the one on the first Blight with a sigh. If she’s gonna start from somewhere, it best be from zero.

***

Kallian was very self-aware of herself, she knew what she was capable and proceeded with caution. She knew that at any moment, she could become like Loghain, and would be willing to end herself to prevent it, but she was right. One didn’t have to be a mage to reap unimaginable destruction.

She watched the others get hit by a Darkspawn mages blast, and harnessed the spirit inside of her to heal them.

But once the battle was over, she felt tired, woozy, dizzy, and she fell.

Kallian rushed over to her to help her up.

“Oooh… I… fell,” she commented pressing a hand to her head.

“Are you alright?” Kallian asked worriedly, her eyes scanning her body checking for injury, such a kind young woman. She did not regret her decision to leave Kinloch Hold with her.

“For a moment there I thought I was…” she sighed, “I thought it was all over.”

“We’ll pull up camp,” Kallian declared, “you need rest.”

“I… I will explain everything once we do,” she replied, and Kallian nodded and began barking orders.

Despite how frequently she disappeared, Kallian was always attentive to everyone’s needs. She was observant and always acted with a level of compassion and grace that made it easy to forget her age, as well as the circumstances under which she grew up, and despite her various achievements, she was humble, almost to a fault.

***

“I think I owe you an explanation for what happened earlier,” Wynne said as she sat next to her.

“I was so worried,” she replied.

“You should know that… something happened to me at the tower, before you came along,” Wynne admitted, “you spoke to Petra, did you not? She told you I saved her from a demon. I… did, but I did not survive the encounter.”

“…You look pretty fresh for a walking corpse,” she raised a brow.

“No, I’m not undead. If I were a possessed, walking corpse and could still think, I’d kill myself.”

“I would be the same.”

“I engaged a very powerful demon to rescue Petra… it sapped me of all my energy and will, and left me drained. It took everything I had to defeat it, and when I was done… I no longer had the strength to keep my heart beating… I remember my life ebbing away, everything receded from me… sound, light… I remember being enveloped in complete, impenetrable darkness… And then I sensed a presence, enfolding me and cradling me, whispering quietly to me. The sensation is impossible to describe… I was being held back, firmly, but gently, as a mother would a child eager to slip from her grasp… I felt life and warmth flowing through my veins again, I began to be aware of small sounds, and the discomfort of my hip pressing into the cold stone of the tower floor.”

It sounds like her experience with undeath was far different than hers. She remembered being in a metric shit-ton of mental, emotional, and physical pain, and being quite happy for the sweet release of death.

“So, I suppose you were never truly dead then,” she said finally.

“The Fade contains spirits both benevolent and malicious. The benevolent spirits seldom make themselves known, because they want nothing from mortals, unlike the demons… it was one of these spirits that saved me. Without it, I would be dead. And it has not left me, it is with me, even now, bonded to me. You see, I am supposed to be dead. It is the spirit that is keeping me in this world, and this is not the way of things. Perhaps the spirit did not expect this, but it is weakening, gradually. I am living on borrowed time.”

“Then we’ll just have to make the best of it,” she replied.

“Yes, that we will.”

***

They would probably reach Haven within a day or two, and he’d been thinking, if he were to become King, he’d first need to learn how to lead, since that’s what kings do, they lead people. Luckily, there was someone in their group who was a master at it, and not just leading, but also tactics, strategy, and diplomacy.

“Hey, Kalli?” he asked as she knitted a sweater.

“Yep, that’s me, I am that person,” Kallian replied, “what can I do for you?”

“Can you… teach me how to be a leader?” he asked and Kallian dropped her knitting needles and stared at him mouth agape, “or you could not if you don’t want too!”

“Thank sweet merciful heavens above!” Kallian cheered standing up and raising her fists to the sky.

“Uh….?”

“Ali-butt, I didn’t want to say anything, but… this entire trip… has been _weirding me the fuck out_ ,” Kallian explained standing up to retreat to her tent for a bit, “I am an Elf who was brought up to not stand out around Humans so that I don’t get killed for my insolence. It’s been stressing me out so much I don’t even know what’s going on anymore. In short: me leading Humans around _doesn’t make sense to me_ , and it’s been driving me _crazy_.”

…They really have been relying on her too much.

With all her skills, abilities, and intellect, it was easy to forget that Kallian was _only eighteen years old_. Especially considering that she was also really _really_ good at looking after people.

“Er—” he was cut off as Kallian continued to rant after re-emerging from her tent.

“Not only that, but until I got recruited, my experience traveling was zero,” Kallian continued, “as was my experience with killing in general. My experience fighting in a group was also zero until we went into the Korcari Wilds together. I’d always worked alone, so being with a group, in general, was weird. Seeing someone actually cast a spell on purpose was also a new experience, as was fighting in open terrain, as was navigating open terrain. Strategy? Tactics? What? That was also new.”

“…You hid your inexperience well,” Sten commented.

“It… felt like you had years of experience with all of this,” Wynne said, “I didn’t think you were that inexperienced… I suppose it makes sense for an eighteen-year-old woman…”

“I’m good at adapting to new situations,” Kallian replied snapping her fingers into a thumbs up, “though, I’m sure some people would regard my existence as one of _those_.”

“Those?” he asked.

“You know, the ones that piss people off just by existing,” Kallian answered and scrunched her face up in disgust, “prodigies… people with natural-born talent… gross… Ugh… now I’m beginning to piss myself off by existing…”

“Why?” Leliana asked, “I think it’s wonderful to have natural-born talent.”

“I’d rather have worked hard to earn my skills and abilities,” Kallian replied with a thousand-yard stare before throwing a bag at him, “rejoice, I am not going to go easy on you. By the time we’re done, you’ll have changed your perspectives at least twice.”

He opened the bag, there were empty journals, ink pots, and quills neatly packed inside, part of him regret asking her, while another part regret not asking her sooner.

“What first?” he asked.

“Abandon everything you know,” Kallian ordered crossing her arms and standing feet shoulder-width apart.

“Abandon everything I know?” he asked.

“Yes,” Kallian nodded, “it is the same when learning different fighting styles, in the beginning, you need to _abandon everything you know_ in order to face the new thing you’re learning properly and with a fresh perspective. Once you’ve grasped the basics of it, you may bring your previous knowledge back into the mix. However, as with all lessons, you need to face it with an open mind, and without prejudice to fully grasp its basic principles. Understanding and perfecting the core of a skill is the most important thing: once you’ve completely grasped the core, you may play with it as you like. I’ve already mentioned this: oftentimes wisdom, knowledge, and understanding can only be grasped by discarding what you already know in favor of changing the way you think. Take notes.

“Basic rule of ruler-ship: it is best to be loved rather than feared. If you are feared, people will rise up against you in order to tear you down. One of the main facets of being a leader is being able to harness your ability to understand others. Empathy, compassion, understanding, patience. These will be your main weapons in all areas of diplomacy and leadership. If you nurture these, your care for others will also naturally increase, and as the amount you care for others increases, so does your ability to observe a situation, and understand it for what it is. Strategy and tactics also require this, they require you to be able to quickly analyze and understand situations as they arise, and then make sound judgments on how to go about handling them. When it truly comes down to it, everything is connected, you need only find the similarities. Never mistake my silence for ignorance, my calmness, and patience for acceptance, or my kindness for weakness. Compassion and tolerance are not a sign of weakness, but a sign of strength. 

“Weathering the storm is a far better skill than trying to vainly fight against it like an idiot. Open your mind and your heart, people are different. People are complex creatures with varying personalities, experiences, feelings, emotional responses, thoughts, needs, perspectives, and such. You do not have to bow to every single person’s need, but you should pay attention to the ones that pop up most frequently. Unrest is a sign that you are doing something wrong, and should take a step back, re-examine the problem and come up with a different solution. Loghain is failing at this. Shoving your ideals down people's throats will never work, people will fight back. True peace can only be achieved through patience, tolerance, and understanding. Nurture your ability to connect with people, find common ground in past experiences, or shared views.

“There are lessons to be learned everywhere. In life, everyone is a teacher, and everyone is a student. Even Loghain is teaching you things. Recognize this. Your homework is to come up with ten different lessons Loghain is teaching us.”

He was really beginning to understand why the first thing she did was to order him to abandon everything he knew. She got along with practically everyone, and it was because she’d perfected these core values, she never judged people on their paths, nor their circumstances, she judged people on the integrity of their character. Kallian was a good leader because she recognized and understood everyone's differences, and those are the qualities that had people flocking to her.

He was also really beginning to understand how Kallian was good at so many things, she was good at finding the core of a skill and being able to connect the core and basic principles to other skills. He would have never thought that her expertise in strategy and tactics was something strongly grounded in the fact that she had nurtured her compassion.

***

She stole an empty journal, an inkpot, and a quill from Alistair and began writing.

“Hey!” Alistair said loudly, “what was that for!?”

“I want to begin compiling a book of Kallian’s words of wisdom,” she replied, “they are comforting to hear, and I think they will give people much strength in the darkest of days.”

“…That’s a good idea,” Alistair replied, 

“Do you mind?” she asked Kallian.

“Do as you wish, words are words, they do not solely belong to one person.”

She scribbled that down, as Alistair sat next to her, and even Sten joined them as they began attempting to remember every meaningful, and profound saying that Kallian had ever uttered in their presence, and every important lesson she had taught them.

Kallian was a common ground upon which everyone could agree on, and the woman herself was regarding them with a raised brow.

They scribbled down her lessons on closure, compassion, and tolerance. They wrote the words she’d spoken to help others, to give them hope and forgiveness, filling page after page in the empty journal. Of course, omitting the cat sounds she’d frequently made after uttering each one. 

It made her remember her comments about Alienages and Elven servants… She didn’t get angry at her, didn’t shout, didn’t snap. She simply firmly said that she would prefer Humans not find them pleasing, and gave her reasoning, and when she had immediately felt regret for shoving her foot into her mouth, Kallian had instead forgiven her and told her that the first step to correcting something, is through understanding.

“Huh… have I really said that much?” Kallian remarked watching them, elbow propped on her knee with her chin in hand, “interesting.”

Kallian might actually be dense and oblivious, she wondered if Kallian knew the effects her actions and words had on people. How they soothed the most troubled of minds, how they calmed others and gave them hope where they had previously thought none could be found.

“By the way, Alistair,” Kallian asked, “how old did you think I was?”

“Late twenties,” Alistair said honestly.

“…Do I really look that old?” Kallian asked turning to her.

“No, you look sixteen,” she said honestly, “but you act much older than you are.”

***

Kallian’s wisdom seemed boundless, and it was especially on full display as she taught Alistair how to lead, how to be a king. Under her tutelage, she had no doubts that Alistair would one day become a great and well-loved king. Her lessons were simple but effective as she provoked thought, and when forced to think about her words and questions, became solidified within one's mind. She agreed with the thought, that if Kallian’s skills and knowledge were to become wide-spread knowledge, she would have been sought after by many groups and organizations. Had she not become a Grey Warden, she could have had employers lining up to hire her by the dozens.

Still, she did not, however, know what to make of Kallian and Zevran’s relationship. 

And it seemed like they didn’t either.

They were close, but at the same time not, the two seemed to find comfort in each other's presence, but never going beyond small chats, or simply sitting near each other. It was strange, for a trained assassin, and a master of seduction, Zevran seemed quite content to wait for her. He cared for her, considered her, and desired to protect her, and she seemed to be the same.

But whenever Kallian had realized what she was doing, she pulled away from him.

“You know, of all the mages I’ve met,” Alistair said, “you have to be the first one I can honestly say I’ve really liked.”

“Why thank you, Alistair, I am quite touched,” she replied, “I like you too, Alistair. I imagine my son would have grown up to be someone like you.”

“Your son?” Alistair asked in shock, “I thought you said you were never married?”

“That’s true,” she answered, “I never have been.”

“I… oh. Then this wasn’t… before you joined the Circle?”

“I joined the Circle at the age of nine. So, no. Do you still like me?”

“Errr… yes? Why wouldn’t I?”

“Good, it appears you got away from the Chantry just in time.”

“By the way, my good friend Alistair,” Zevran said, “how did Lady Elissa like your gift?”

“She loved it,” Kallian with a sly smile, “I mean, apparently you know how much she liked it too.”

“Oh-ho, is that so?” Zevran said with a coquettish grin.

“Alistair… since things have come this far,” Kallian said with a beaming smile, “shall Mother tell you where babies come from?”

“Oh yes, we should make sure that Alistair is aware of this,” she agreed, “I know the Chantry says you dream about your babies and the good Fade spirits take them out of the Fade and leave them in your arms… but that’s not true. Actually, what happens is that when a girl and a boy really love ea—”

“Andraste’s flaming sword!” Alistair shouted, “I know where babies come from!”

“Do you?” she asked, “do you really?”

“I certainly hope so!” Alistair replied bright-faced.

“Awwww, look how cute he is,” Kallian cooed.

“The two of you did that on purpose!” Alistair glowered.

“Now, now, Alistair,” Kallian replied, “why would we do such a thing?”

“Because you’re a trickster who delights in nothing more than laughter,” Alistair replied, “and because you’re wicked. That frail old lady act? I’m so not fooled. I’m onto you now.”

“I thought you’d rather be on Elissa,” Zevran laughed and Alistair’s face turned redder.

“Honestly you,” Kallian frowned whacking Zevran on the shoulder.

It was times like these, that made them look like they were in a loving relationship, so it was hard to place where things stood between them. 

She supposed they were a bit more than friends but far less than lovers.

***

“Zevran, I’ve been thinking about those ink drawings, what did you call them? Tattoos?” Alistair asked, “are you… still willing to do one?”

“Oh-ho! You’ve decided to take the plunge, have you?” he grinned, “what is a little pain, am I right?”

“I’m not so worried about that,” Alistair replied, “I think they look interesting, though I’d want mine… smaller. When can you do it?”

“Not so fast, my friend. There is an entire ritual to how this is done, do you not know?” he frowned ignoring Kallian’s snort, “first, I need to bathe you in a mixture of olives and rosewater.”

“You need to… bathe me?” Alistair narrowed his eyes suspiciously, “that seems… odd.”

“No, no, no, it is not odd at all, it needs to be worked into your skin, preparing it to receive the ink,” he explained quickly so that Kallian didn’t have the opportunity to interfere, “the massage is quite pleasurable. You are in good hands.”

“The… massage?” Alistair replied, “you’re having me on, aren’t you? Kalli, he’s having me on, isn’t he?”

“You need to clean and disinfect the area you’re getting tattooed, and there is a measure of aftercare to ensure that it doesn’t get infected,” Kallian answered, “but I don’t recall a bath in olives and rosewater, nor do I recall getting a massage. I recall getting thrown onto a bed, and then sat on.”

“…Thrown onto a bed and then sat on?” Alistair asked, “do I want to know?”

“I wasn’t planning on getting any, but I got ambushed,” Kallian replied, “by someone I thought I could trust. While I was trying to help organize reconstruction efforts.”

“May I?” he asked gesturing to her arm, she allowed him to take it, gently rolling up the sleeve and undoing the bandages, “these were actually done quite nicely.”

“My cousin will be thrilled to hear you compliment her work,” Kallian replied dryly.

“Why don’t you show them off more often?” he asked undoing the bandages on her other arm too.

“I didn’t like remembering how I got them, and eventually it just became a habit,” Kallian answered, letting him have his way with her arms, “and also so I don’t get immediately recognized.”

“How much did it hurt?” Alistair asked as he gently ran his fingers over the uneven, textured skin of her scars wondering just how far she’d let him take it.

“It was agonizing, considering the scars they’re over,” Kallian replied before turning her gaze on him, “just how much are you going to touch my arms?”

“I was simply waiting for you to say something,” he grinned as he re-wrapped her arms.

“Well, consider something to have now been said,” Kallian sighed.

***

She had wanted to tell Alistair to call her _Shifu_ but, the word meant nothing here, though, she could tell he was stewing on the things she’d taught him a few days ago. Processing it, understanding it, working through it. In her past life, the people of the place she lived were compassionate, they listened to each other, cared for each other, and were quick to notice if something were wrong. They were kind and honest. Community was one of the most important things to them. Everyone was family, everyone cared for each other. Kindness and generosity, giving neighbors extra food you got because, hey, why not? Giving friends and family fruit and vegetables from a good harvest, because why not? Giving and expecting nothing in return because, why not? Inviting random strangers to a potluck because, why not?

He still hasn’t handed in his homework.

She also hasn’t been able to make much progress through the book on the First Blight.

“Interesting strategy,” Sten commented, “tell me: do you intend to keep going north until it becomes south, and attack the Archdemon from the rear?”

“Not without a ship, though considering that the world is round, technically, it would be possible,” she replied, “however, no, this is, unfortunately, necessary.”

“Is it? I see, I was mistaken, then,” Sten replied, “it seemed to me that we were climbing a mountain in the middle of nowhere on some frivolous whim of yours.”

“No frivolous whim of mine would lead me up a mountain,” she replied flatly, “not only that, but Arl Eamon is ill, so we’re looking for a supposed panacea.”

“How will this help him?”

“Won’t know until we try, miracles can happen at any turn, and while, personally, I don’t believe in the existence of panaceas, it is currently our best shot.”

“The Archdemon is our goal, and we are heading away from it. To find the charred remnants of a dead woman. I will not simply follow in your shadow as you run from battle.”

“Yes, the Archdemon is our goal, however, between it and us lies a legion of Darkspawn of varying types. Not only that but Ferelden is in a state of Civil War, in order to quell the Blight, that needs to get shut down, an army needs to be rebuilt, and currently standing between us and that is Loghain.”

“Why? His army was broken at Ostagar, he is a solitary old man. Why do you fear him?”

“I do not fear him, however, he is not solitary, he has allies, and said allies have power. They won’t simply lay down their weapons, they don’t think this is a real Blight, and won’t until the Archdemon knocks on their door, we need to convince them that this is not the case. Arl Eamon is our best bet at this. Fate dealt me a shit hand, but that does not mean I cannot play it out to its full potential. I am not running from the Archdemon nor am I running from the Blight. Maximizing one's total outcome potential is never easy, it is hard work, I am being forced to make one plus one equal ten, to turn straw into gold.”

“Then explain all of the breaks we take at various villages.”

“So that I don’t go insane, continued mental and emotional strain can lead to _extreme_ stress, which can lead to psychosis: a mental and emotional disconnect from reality. I don’t want that.”

She was also afraid of snapping wholly and completely. Losing all sense of self, her wisdom was great, and it didn’t always have to be used for good, wisdom on its own is a tool like any other, it can be used for good or ill. She doesn’t want to think the world a lost cause that would be better off being completely and utterly destroyed. She could impede all attempts to quell the Blight and watch the world burn. She didn’t want that.

“I see…”

“Exactly. I need to be in full control of all of my mental faculties, any slip-up and we’re doomed. One plus one does not equal ten easily. In fact, it’s practically impossible, but that’s what I’m here for, making the impossible possible… or something. Also, if I wanted to run away, I would have a long time ago, and I _definitely_ wouldn’t have brought anyone along with me.”

“…True.”

They were outside of Haven, now, and she took a deep breath, this whole Holy Grail business was shady, especially considering the impostor that had been in Genitivi’s house.

Also, if Brother Genitivi is alive and has an injured leg, she was going to riot.

Because what the fuck.

“I don’t trust this place,” she said, “tread carefully: if all else fails, follow my lead.”

As usual, whenever she enters settlements, she left her weapons somewhere else, and only had the ones tucked into the pockets of her sleeves.

“What are you doing in Haven?” the Guard outside the village said gruffly, “there is nothing for you here.”

Asking too many questions might not yield a good response, and she already knows this village is sketchy. For now, the best course of action would be gaining entry into the village in order to investigate. Path of least resistance, ho!

“I’m sorry, ser, but, we got lost after being attacked by Darkspawn a few days ago,” she replied, “would it be alright for us to trade for enough supplies to last us until the next village?”

Though, to be completely honest, they really had been attacked by Darkspawn a few days ago.

“Very well, you may trade for supplies at the shop if you wish,” the Guard glowered, “then I suggest you and your companions leave.”

“Thank you, ser,” she replied with a polite bow.

“Kalli,” Alistair said.

“Sometimes the best path truly is the one of least resistance,” she murmured with a wink, “I already don’t trust this place, asking too many questions will likely yield unfavorable results.”

“You are so devious my dear,” Zevran chuckled softly next to her ear and she _shuddered_ , she glowered at his sly grin.

“Zevran, Leli,” she said quietly, “go do what tricksters do best, something isn’t right.”

“Wild animal instincts?” Alistair asked quietly as the two disappeared.

“Sure,” she replied making sure to make as much noise as possible as she walked towards the village shop, “by the way, I’m still expecting you to hand in your homework.”

After stepping into the shop, she wondered why no one knew how to properly dispose of a body, or at least clean up after them. Why insist on keeping them indoors where the smell festers? And not just the smell, it was also the bodily fluids… how unhygienic, this is how disease and pestilence spread. Honestly, the fact that there were people who would live in the same space as a decaying corpse was revolting.

She bought a few health poultices as a cover, and left, moving to reconvene with Leliana and Zevran. There would soon be a fight. She slipped her gloves on and heard Alistair begin shifting his weapons and shield around. They were all beginning to form into a habit, whenever she put her gloves on, they immediately began preparing themselves for a fight.

Leliana was discreetly waving her to a house and she snuck over, and they slipped inside, where Zevran was standing near a blood alter.

“I was not expecting to find something so unsettling,” Leliana sighed.

“Used for food preparation, perhaps?” Alistair replied.

“Considering that there was a decomposing corpse in the back of the item shop?” she replied dryly, “highly doubtful.”

“I’m just trying to be opti—” Alistair cut himself off to look at her, “there was a what now?”

“That’s why we left the shop to find Zevran and Leli,” she replied hands slipping into her sleeves.

“I wonder… the Crows often made sacrifices of blood,” Zevran commented, “and it gave them uncanny abilities.”

“Yelch… why does it always have to be blood,” she cringed, “so unhygienic… We should probably see to the body of whoever in the back of the village shop… it might be one of Arl Eamon’s.”

They moved outside and were immediately attacked, she sent Diana back to where the others were to grab her main weapons as the fight broke out. After fighting their way back to the shop, she saw the dismembered corpse of one of Arl Eamon’s knights.

“He’s been dead a few days,” she commented moving about the shop to see if there were any of his things that they could bring back to Redcliffe.

“What are you doing?” Alistair asked.

“Memento,” she answered picking the lock on a chest, “huh… these don’t look like Ferelden boo—”

“Hmmm. That smell… this is Antivan leather, isn’t it? I would know that smell anywhere!” Zevran said inhaling deeply right next to her causing her to squeak in alarm, and him to chuckle, “I will be taking those.”

“Are they comparable to the ones you didn’t buy?” she asked wryly after putting a bit of distance between them and handing him the boots, “why don’t you see if they fit?”

“But I’m not finished admiring them, yet!” Zevran replied brightly, “can you smell that? Like rotting flesh. Just like back in Antiva City.”

“Not sure if I’d want to associate home with the scent of rotting flesh,” she replied.

“Now, if only you could find me a prostitute or two, a bowl of fish chowder and a corrupt politician,” Zevran laughed, “then I’d really feel like I was home.”

“You rejected my offer to find you a prostitute or two,” she pointed out, “but fish chowder is something I can handle, and I’m sure we’ll be killing corrupt politicians sometime soon.”

“I’d just like to point out,” Alistair said speaking up as Zevran began trying the boots on, “that we’re behind enemy lines, and you two are _flirting_.”

“And they fit, as well!” Zevran said happily ignoring him, “marvelous!”

“We are _not_ ,” she argued, “or at least I don’t think we are.”

“I think it’s alright,” Leliana commented, “we’re not being attacked right this moment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Tao Te Ching Chapter Eighty-One_


	30. How the Cat Entered the Gauntlet

When they left the shop, Diana was waiting with her main weapons, which she buckled them to her hips, and returned her concealed weapons to the pockets on the insides of her sleeves. They ascended the hill towards what was probably the Chantry, where they heard the Chant of Light.

“Is Diana your squire?” Alistair asked.

“Sure, let’s go with that. Ah, Alistair, I forgot to tell you something about why it’s better for a ruler/leader to be loved rather than feared,” she said suddenly in realization, “there are two types of people that my intimidation won’t work against: the first type are those of strong minds, though they’ll still regard me wearily. The second type are those with strong devotion, and they won’t care what I do, mrow.”

“Devotion?”

“Another word for it is loyalty, I suppose. People are more likely to steadfastly rally behind people they respect and care for, rather than a cause. A cause is an impersonal thing, an ambiguous blob of ideals. However, a person is someone they can respect, talk, and listen to. People will always care more about other people than they do about causes. And that is why my intimidation won’t work on them: they care too much about the other person to fall prey to it, mya.”

“Can you repeat this lecture when I can actually appreciate it for what it is? That’d be great. Thanks.”

“Life doesn’t wait for you to learn from it, so why should I, nyan-nyan-nyon?”

Come to think about it… Wasn’t that close to a phrase her Grandfather used to say in her past life? What was it again?

_“Come on, Grandpa, give chance!”_

_“Life doesn’t give chance, so why should I?”_

Ah, right, that was it. 

He never went easy on people when playing against them.

They entered the Chantry, and she politely moved to the side and leaned against the wall.

“What?” Alistair gawked at her.

“I am not so crass as to interrupt religious ceremonies with insults and accusations,” she answered quietly crossing her arms as she closed her eyes and waited, “no matter what comes next.”

“…We are blessed beyond measure, we are chosen by the Holy and Beloved to be Her guardians. This sacred duty is given to us alone; rejoice, my brethren, and prepare your hearts to receive Her. Lift up your voices, and despair not, for She will raise Her faithful servants to glory when Her— ” the Revered Father, she guessed, declared before noticing them narrowing his eyes, “welcome, I heard we had visitors wandering about the village.”

A Revered Father, huh? She hadn’t seen a Revered Father in this world before, only Revered Mothers.

“Please, by all means, don’t mind us, we can wait,” she said waving around a sleeve, “it is against my policy to interrupt religious sermons.”

“No matter, we were just about done here anyway,” the Revered Father replied, “it is better this way, many of the villagers are uncomfortable in the presence of strangers.”

“But your Reverence, we have not completed the Sacraments of the Holy Mother,” a Woman said, “or… or sung the Invocation—”

“Be calm, Nuada, we have an honored guest,” the Revered Father said, “surely the Sacraments can wait.”

“How nightmarish to live in such a rural village, the only entertainment being priests who go on about the chant of this and that,” Zevran groaned, “just once, I’d like to walk into one of these places and discover a lively dance, or a drinking festival. Or an orgy. But alas, no.”

“Of course you’re not going to discover any of those, the Chantry stomped out all minor religions, destroying their gods and festivities along with them,” she commented, “such is the nature of genocide, after all.”

“Geno—” she held up a hand to interrupt Leliana.

“We can discuss it later,” she replied.

“I trust you’ve enjoyed your time in Haven so far?” the Revered Father asked.

“Well, I’m simply wondering why your hygiene standards are so low,” she replied matter-of-factly, “I could smell the decomposing corpses in the item shop from the doorway.”

“This, my brothers, is what happens when you let an outsider into the village,” the Revered Father stated, “they have no respect for our privacy.”

“Anyone would notice the smell of rotting flesh when entering an item shop that sells no meat,” she pointed out, “though, it’s ghastly that even the spy you sent to Denerim was willing to live in the same space with a decaying corpse. Even with olfactory fatigue, being able to live in the same space as a breeding ground for disease and pestilence is, quite frankly, disgusting.”

“She will tell others if we let her, word will spread, and then what?” the Revered Father said ignoring her, “you, stranger, do not understand our ways. You would bring war to Haven in your ignorance.”

“What a melodramatic exaggeration,” she sighed, “so? Where is Brother Genitivi?”

“We find outsiders… disruptive. They bring others, and before long, Haven is changed, we will go to any lengths to prevent that,” the Father replied, “we don’t owe you any explanations for our actions. We have a sacred duty, failure to protect Her would be a greater sin. All will be forgiven.”

“I suppose in the end we all do as we must,” she sighed.

Dragonlings… Dragonlings were joining the fray… Come to think of it, didn’t she see a book on dragon cults in Brother Genitivi’s house?

“I guess this is why there was a book on dragon cults in Brother Genitivi’s house,” she commented dodging around waiting for the right opportunity to strike. 

Let them come to her, not the other way around, honestly, their necks were long and thin, so as long as she could get in a counter after they lunged and snapped at her, this was trivial. Disconnect the vertebrae at the base of the skull, slam her pommel into the side of one of the others heads to knock its brain around a bit and then use the opportunity to strike.

“How are you so calm?” Alistair sighed breathing heavily, “and also never get tired?”

“Wait, haven’t I answered this question before? Ah, no matter, for starters, I know how to breathe. As for how I’m calm? We’ve discussed this too, I’m adaptable” she stated looking about the room, “ah, a hidden-not-so-hidden door… Seriously, this brick wall is obvious, especially considering the room on the direct opposite of this room.”

“I know how to breathe!” Alistair protested.

“Oh? Your heavy breathing says otherwise. Always empty your lungs before you take in your next breath, if you hold in too much air, you’ll wear yourself out faster. Another reason I don’t get tired is because I make good use of my momentum, making me have to expend less energy into my movements. I told you: I am efficient, I don’t waste a single breath, nor do I waste a single movement. But simply getting your breathing down properly will increase your stamina by a fairly hefty amount, I think. Not sure, don’t quote me on that,” she explained before jabbing her thumb into the open doorway, “now hurry up, let’s go.”

They saw a man on the floor, Brother Genitivi, she thinks.

“Who are you?” Brother Genitivi said, “they… they’ve sent you to finish it?”

“Brother Genitivi?” she replied, “my name is Kallian, and we are here to help you.”

“You don’t know how glad I am to see someone who isn’t from this village,” Brother Genitivi groaned, “the leg’s not doing so well and… and I can’t feel my foot.”

She stood up, walked over to a wall, and began hitting her forehead against it.

It’s injured.

His leg is injured.

Brother Genitivi is the Fisher King. 

They found the Fisher King.

It’s official, they were an Arthurian Legend now… she should commission Wade to make a sword for Alistair and name it Excalibur.

“My dear Warden,” Zevran frowned pulling her away from the wall and covering her forehead with his hand, “what is the matter?”

“Just… thinking about petitioning the greatest blacksmith in the land to craft Alistair a sword and name it Excalibur,” she replied monotonously, allowing him to hold her for the moment, “yeah… Excalibur… I just need to find a suitable metal to have it made out of…”

“Uhhhh…?” Alistair said worriedly, as she pulled herself away from Zevran, “should we be concerned?”

“Don’t worry, I’m just losing my mind,” she said pulling on a different set of gloves and crouching next to Brother Genitivi, “I have some bandages and such.”

“I think we should take a long rest at Redcliffe when we go back,” Alistair declared.

“I agree,” Zevran sighed.

“Nooooooo… I’ll be fine,” she replied as she began inspecting Brother Genitivi, “can you wiggle your toes for me?”

“No, no, I think you need a rest, my dear Warden,” Zevran frowned.

“Nooooooooo I’ll be fiiiiiiiiiiiiiine,” she repeated.

“You just said you were losing your mind,” Leliana replied.

“I’ll be fiiiinnne,” she repeated.

“Did Arl Eamon send you?” Brother Genitivi asked.

“So you know about the knights that were sent after you,” she sighed and began bandaging up his leg.

“How could I forget? Eirik said they were ambushed, some killed, a few brought back to Haven to be questioned,” Brother Genitivi answered, “he was so self-righteous about it, so smug. He seemed pleased that he had tortured and murdered those men.”

“Luckily, he won’t be doing that ever again.”

“Good. Eirik and his fellows were a blemish in the Maker’s sight, if the Maker would even deign to look upon this world, that is,” Brother Genitivi replied as she finished up bandaging his leg, “thank you. That… that feels much better.”

“None of the tendons were cut, which was honestly surprising… cutting the tendons would have crippled you for far longer,” she noted, “but there was no major damage, no signs of rot, it’ll probably take maybe three to four weeks to heal properly.”

“I don’t have time for that, I’m so close,” Brother Genitivi replied, “the Urn is just up that mountain.”

“How do you know?”

“My research led me to Haven… and I have heard the villagers talking. I know the Urn is here. Haven lies in the shadow of the mountain that holds the Urn. There is an old temple here, built to protect it… The door is always locked, but I know what the key is… Eirik wears a medallion that opens the temple door… I’ve seen what he does with it.”

“I’ll go look for it,” Leliana said leaving to go back to the other room with Alistair in tow.

“Okay,” she replied, “how did you end up here?”

“I was looking for answers. I thought the villagers would know something about the Urn. I was right, they do. They’re just not willing to share it with outsiders. When I mentioned the Urn, Eirik assured me he would take me to the temple in the morning. He said a room had been prepared for me. I didn’t realize it would be… this charming place.”

“What were they doing with you?”

“They seemed intent on finding out personal information about me. Where I grew up, things like that…”

“They were planning to place a fake Genitivi in Denerim,” she sighed.

“How do you know?”

“There was an impostor Weylon at your house.”

“An impostor? What happened to the real Weylon?”

“I’m sorry,” she replied noticing the other two return, “he’s gone.”

“Ah, poor Weylon… I should have never dragged you into this… Maker take you into His hands, my boy… He believed in me, even when I lost faith in myself. I will honor his memory.”

“Is this the medallion?” Leliana asked holding the medallion up.

“Yes, that is your key. Take me to the mountainside, and I will show you.”

“Trying to argue with you would be a waste of time and energy,” she sighed after regarding him for a moment, “it’s clear you won’t take no for an answer… people who get really into something are adamant like that.”

“It is not that far and… will you let me lean on you?” Brother Genitivi asked, “for the Urn, any pain is worth enduring.”

“You can lean on me,” Alistair said quickly, “you might break her if you lean on her.”

“Ah, good,” Brother Genitivi replied as Alistair moved to help him, “help me up here. I’ll try not to slow us down.”

“Seriously, Alistair? I am not brittle,” she sighed but followed them up the mountain anyway, “I could probably even carry him.”

“I highly doubt that, my dear Warden,” Zevran replied, “you have very little muscle.”

“Why do I need muscle to be able to carry someone? I told you right? Part of my strength comes from something other than my momentum.”

“Then what is the other part from?” Leliana asked.

“Seeecreeeet… I’ll just say it was a bit of an agonizing experience,” she pursed her lips as they entered another building with a door at the end of a stairway, “though since I’ve been gaining muscle, as little as it might be, I’m much stronger than I used to be…”

“Here we are,” Brother Genitivi said as they reached the door before holding his hand out, “give me the medallion, and let’s see if I remember.”

“Here you go,” Leliana said handing it over.

“Thank you… yes, you see, it can be manipulated, just like this,” Brother Genitivi replied, “and there… a key to open the way.”

“Interesting… I wonder who created it,” she said raising a brow.

It was like one of those Japanese puzzle boxes of her old world… Those were fun times.

“It may have been passed down through the generations from the first people who built this temple,” Brother Genitivi answered, “now… where does this go? Ah, here.”

The temple hall was… large to say the least, she looked up at the ceiling wondering just how high it went.

“Maker’s breath!” Alistair exclaimed, “look at it all!”

“I can’t believe all this is still standing!” Leliana gasped, “this Temple must be thousands of years old.”

“Look at all that snooooowwww,” she groaned, “I did not bring snow appropriate clothes.”

“Ahhhh, an untouched treasure!” Zevran said happily, “what wonders await us here?”

“Can you two have more appropriate reactions to things?” Alistair asked, “that’d be great, thanks.”

“I was born with this kind of personality,” she replied flatly, “so, no, sorry.”

“Same, really,” Zevran agreed.

“What I would give to have seen this hall in all its splendor, as it was meant to be…” Brother Genitivi said in awe, “still, sweep away the ice and the snow, and traces of beauty remain.”

“Stay alert now,” she cautioned.

“I’m sorry… what? I was a little distracted, I apologize,” Brother Genitivi said wandering off, “these carvings were created just after Andraste’s death, and they may reveal things about Her life that we do not yet know… I think I need more time to study these statues and carvings.”

“You want to stay here?” she frowned, “is it safe?”

“I could not keep up with you with my injuries, though I should be safe, I don’t think there are any villagers here,” Brother Genitivi replied, “go, I will be alright, perhaps my destiny was only to lead _you_ to the Urn.”

“Mmm… I’m still worried,” she sighed, “I’ll go get the others.”

She stretched out her legs a bit and began running back down the mountain to where the others were.

***

They’d practically immediately lost sight of Kallian. She moves so fast that sometimes it was hard to even simply keep her within your sight. None of them had any illusions about ever being able to keep up with her.

He was still a little concerned considering that she had hit her forehead against a wall, on purpose, a few times, and then began uttering mumbled nonsense. They were taking an extended break at Redcliffe, no matter what she said. He was putting his foot down on the matter, and he knew that everyone else would back him up once they heard of what she’d done. Surely seven people would be able to control one woman, no matter how willful.

Right?

“Quick little thing, isn’t she?” Brother Genitivi commented, “and very considerate.”

“She really is,” he nodded, “though she’s probably the most dangerous person among us.”

“There’s no probably about it,” Leliana replied, “she _is_ the most dangerous person among us.”

“Apparently, she’s a master of weaponry,” Zevran commented, “she’s admitted that she can fight with _any_ weapon you put into her hands.”

“Wait… what?” he asked.

“She said that it’s a side effect of mastering her fighting style,” Leliana explained, “she said that her fighting style is the kind where once mastered, there are no weapons it cannot accommodate.”

“Interesting…” Brother Genitivi said, “I haven’t heard of a fighting style like that…”

“Neither had we,” he noted, “it’s very… unique, to say the least.”

“It seems to demand a significant amount of flexibility, and speed,” Leliana said, “and has an emphasis on elegance and grace.”

He heard movement behind them and turned to look. Kallian was back with the others in tow.

“That was fast,” he said.

“By the shifting skies of the Fade,” Wynne gasped in awe, “this is… magnificent.”

“And I thought your Chantry was strange when they weren’t dedicating temples to corpses,” Sten said.

“An ancient temple, lost to all but a select few…” Morrigan said, “magnificent!”

“Sten I can understand, but even _Morrigan_ had a more appropriate reaction to this place than the two of you,” he frowned at the two Elves.

“Sorry for being born with the personalities we have,” Kallian stuck her tongue out at him before handing a bag to Brother Genitivi, “here, some quills, ink, and a few empty journals… A thank you for leading us here, you’ve been a great help.”

“No, thank you,” Brother Genitivi replied taking the bag from her, “it’s my job… just be careful, that all I ask. The temple is… perilous.”

“I am always careful,” Kallian snapped her fingers into a thumbs up.

“Maybe you should stay,” he said.

“What? Why?” Kallian asked.

“Because you said you were losing your mind,” Leliana answered.

“How can I lose what I’ve never had?” Kallian replied dismissively waving a sleeve around, already trotting off, Diana following her, “besides, since when do cats listen to what you tell them to do?”

“Zevran, say something,” he said.

“As worried as I am, I know better than to try to control her, my friend,” Zevran replied dryly following after her, “when it comes down to it, she does as she pleases.”

Whether she liked it or not, they were resting at Redcliffe for a few days.

“Well, I’m glad I went back to grab the others,” Kallian sighed flicking the blood off her blades, “otherwise I would have been incredibly worried leaving him on his own.”

“Old books,” he stated finding a library of sorts, “you think any of those might still be readable?”

“Hmmm… You think any valuable tome might still be in a decent condition?” Zevran mused.

“Looks like a lot of them are,” Kallian replied opening one up, “many of them are readable, too.”

“Well, I don’t think anyone will mind if I borrow a book or two,” Leliana replied looking through the titles.

“Leli, do you recognize this language?” Kallian asked holding up a scroll.

“I think this was written in a Chantry cipher,” Leliana replied, “we should take it to the Chantry in Denerim.”

“Alright,” Kallian nodded, “I’m going to tell Brother Genitivi about this place really quick.”

There was a sudden cry of surprise and a thump, causing them to all look in Kallian’s direction.

She’d slipped and fallen and was now covering her face with her hands in embarrassment.

“Are you alright, my dear Warden?” Zevran asked offering her a hand, and she took it but continued to hide her face behind her other hand.

“Thank you,” Kallian said brushing herself off before disappearing.

“We’re definitely spending a few days in Redcliffe,” he sighed, “whether she likes it or not.”

“I agree,” Leliana sighed.

“Why?” Kallian asked popping up again, “if it’s for my sake, then we don’t need to.”

“My dear Warden,” Zevran sighed, “we do.”

***

She probably shouldn’t have lost it when Brother Genitivi turned out to be the Fisher King. But she couldn’t help it, she didn’t expect to be part of Arthurian Legend, she couldn’t tell them about Arthurian Legend, they’d think she went off the deep end. Granted, they already thought she’d gone off the deep end. But they’d think she’d gone off the deeper end. Which would be bad, she didn’t want them worrying about her mental and emotional state. Granted, her emotional state was also kind of in shambles, but she didn’t want people knowing that. Maybe she should just let them rest for a few days in Redcliffe to ease their worries.

“Fine,” she sighed, “we’ll stay in Redcliffe for a few days, if you’re _that_ concerned.”

“Good,” Alistair said frowning at her.

She could use it as a chance to get some reading in, she still needed to go through the books on the previous Blights, Grey Wardens, and Darkspawn. They may not run into any other Grey Wardens, so she needed to unlock their secrets on her own. Well, first things first, time to go looking for the Holy Grail. Everything else are bridges she can cross when she arrives at their respected rivers.

“This is Maferath, husband of Andraste and Her betrayer,” Zevran said looking up at a statue, “what? I went to the Chantry as a child.”

“I’ve always kind of felt bad for him,” she admitted, “being stuck in that situation sucks.”

“What?!” Leliana said in shock, “in his situation?”

“Yeah, imagine it: you’re married to the person you love, but they _won’t look your way_ ,” she explained, “you’re still married to them, but the only one they look to is something that you can’t even see. Something without physical form… Depressing stuff, really. Being forced to grin and bear it, without someone to really turn to, he was Her general, he couldn’t be weak, and was expected to be completely understanding and alright with it since he was Her earthly husband. Love turns to despair, despair turns to contempt, contempt turns into a desire to destroy… Some people are like that: ‘if I can’t have them, then no-one can’. No matter what he did, he’d never be enough for Her to look his way again. That would be agonizing, so close yet so far.”

“Historians generally agree that he betrayed Her in order to take the lands She’d conquered,” Alistair said thoughtfully.

“Yes, I thought that Maferath was so jealous of Andraste’s power that he betrayed Her to the Imperium,” Leliana nodded, “which resulted in Her death.”

“Ah-ha, see what I mean now?” she replied snapping her fingers into a point, “people are complex creatures with varying perspectives. From my perspective, he was a man in a terrible position, but in another’s he was a power-hungry fiend. We look at the same person and see completely different things, different people, even.”

She pushed through the door to the next part of the temple, where there were more dragonlings. Wonderful… Hopefully, she’ll be able to find suitable materials to have a sword and scabbard made for Alistair.

Oh, drakes. These would be far harder to kill than the dragonlings. Good thing she had her main weapons, she didn’t think her sleeved weapons would be enough to break through their scales… She should take some of their hides for armor, and maybe scabbard. It’d be good for those of them that actually wear the stuff. She wondered if Wade would be up for it, probably, the man was a genius.

She wondered if they were edible, though they probably were. Picking up two of the carcasses by the tail she began hauling them back towards where they left the others.

“Where are you going with those?” Alistair asked as she began dragging behind her.

“Back to the others,” she answered, “I want to skin them later, so be a dear and help me with the third.”

And suddenly one of the tails disappeared from her hands, and she turned to frown at the thief.

Zevran, of course it was.

It’d be a waste of breath to argue, so she just let him take it with little more than a roll of the eyes.

“…You brought back drake corpses,” Sten said.

“I want their hides,” she replied, “so I’m planning to skin them later… I wonder if what dragon meat tastes like…”

“I have a feeling we’ll be finding that out later,” Morrigan sighed.

“Probably,” she nodded before moving back to where she’d met the drakes.

She wondered how she should cook them when she got down to it. The cold would keep them fresh while they dealt with this mess, so there was that. Sten might get started on skinning them for her, though. She had a feeling he would, he was a better butcher than she was anyway.

“I always get stalagmites and stalactites confused,” Alistair remarked after they’d returned to the cave part.

“Stalactites come from the ceiling, ‘C’ for ‘Ceiling’,” she explained, “stalagmites come from the ground ‘G’ for ‘Ground’.”

“Oh!” Leliana said in understanding, “that’s a good way to remember it.”

“‘C’ also comes before ‘G’ in the alphabet,” she added, “so you can think of it that way too.”

“You are so smart, my dear Warden,” Zevran said.

“I do alright,” she replied, “I’m totally ignorant in some subjects, and complete and utter absolute garbage in others.”

“I can’t imagine you not being able to do something,” Alistair said thoughtfully.

“That’s because I make it a point to not do the things I’m bad at,” she stated.

“Why?” Alistair asked.

“Insecurities,” she answered.

“YOU HAVE INSECURITIES?!” Alistair all but shouted, making both hands shoot to her weapons, and close her eyes to focus her hearing.

Hearing nothing, she raised a foot, and pivoted her entire body to kick Alistair in the ass.

“Of course I have insecurities,” she frowned as she chastised him, “and we’re in dangerous territory, so please don’t shout.”

“Sorry,” Alistair replied, “it’s just hard to imagine you with insecurities.”

“And this is why I make it a point to not do the things I’m bad at,” she sighed.

Drakes were harder to kill than dragonlings, she had to be far more careful, they moved faster, and their scales were thicker.

There, disconnect the vertebrae from the base of the skull, Alistair will intercept that other one. Leliana will shoot the archer, Zevran will take care of the Cultist, Diana will take care of the other archer…

There were _a lot_ of mages here, why were there so many mages?

“You know… I feel like my stamina has increased, because of the breathing thing,” Alistair said, “also are you planning to drag every drake back?”

“Good to hear,” she replied grabbing the drake by the tail and hauling it back, “and no, but since this is a dead-end, I might as well move it to a place where I can grab it on our way back… Still, I wonder where exactly they’re getting these eggs.”

“If there’s anyone in charge of these cultists,” Zevran cautioned, “we have not met them yet.”

“Lava? Do you think this mountain is about to erupt?” Leliana asked, “because I don’t really want to be here when it does.”

“Well, we seem to be heading… up?” Alistair replied, “yes, I think these caves are going up to the surface.”

“That’s not lava,” she remarked, “it’s sulfur.”

“How do you know, my dear Warden?” Zevran asked.

“Because the fumes are yellow,” she answered, “lava tends to give off more heat, and the fumes are generally grey.”

“Are you sure you never planned on leaving the Alienage?” Leliana asked.

“Yes,” she sighed, “I wanted to _know_ about the world, I didn’t care whether I saw it or not.”

“Many of your skills, and abilities, as well as much of your knowledge, would have gone to waste in the Alienage, my dear Warden,” Zevran mused.

“That would’ve been completely fine with me,” she waved a sleeve around.

She noticed people were waiting for them up ahead, and she ducked behind Alistair and gave him a nudge. They seemed like they wanted to talk, and the man needed more experience dealing with these things.

“Stop! You will go no further,” the Man in front of them growled.

“Oh?” Alistair asked after she’d given him an expectant look, “is that so?”

“You have defiled our temple, you have spilled the blood of the faithful, and slaughtered our young,” the Man glowered, “no more. You will tell me now, intruder, why have you done all this. Why have you come here?”

Well, now she felt like the biggest monster in the world. If they were a dragon cult then… The dragons were likely considered their young, and if they were a dragon cult, then likely they were desecrating… wait, aren’t they the Disciples of Andraste? She was feeling many things, and she wasn’t quite sure what they were yet. 

Let’s think:

They’d killed and tortured Arl Eamon’s knights, Weylon, and Brother Genitivi. Alright, that’s enough to label them as ‘evil’.

However, they were doing it to protect themselves and preserve their ways. Alright, that’s enough to label her as ‘evil’ in their eyes.

No amount of need to protect themselves could ever make up for what they’ve done to countless others. Leaving deities out of the equation, their actions were far too extreme. Especially, if they were proud of the fact that they killed, and tortured Arl Eamon’s men. Not only that but to disrespect the dead by leaving their bodies to decompose like that… their sins outweighed hers. Her conscience was clear.

“We have come for the Urn of Sacred Ashes,” she heard Alistair say, drawing her out of her thoughts.

“You did this all for an ancient relic? Know this, stranger: the prophet Andraste has overcome death itself and has returned to Her faithful in a form more radiant than you can imagine!” the Man stated, “not even the Tevinter Imperium could hope to slay Her now. What hope do you have?”

“You’re mad!” Leliana gasped, “Andraste has died and returned to the Maker’s side!”

“You know nothing! Andraste revealed Herself to us! We are Her Chosen!” the Man yelled before attacking, “to arms, my brethren! Andraste will grant us victory!”

Must be a dragon, since ‘dragon cult’ as well as all the dragonlings and drakes. Though, she wasn’t sure if Andraste would have liked being reincarnated in the form of one of the Old Gods of the Imperium that she overthrew.

Ah, if it were a dragon… Dragon bones…

A dragon bone sword named Excalibur, and a matching scabbard!

“Ah, daylight,” she said shielding her eyes with her hands, they were in the caves for a while.

They didn’t make it ten steps before a loud screech echoed off the Mountain top.

“A High Dragon is not a joke,” Alistair commented after it laid its head down to rest, “we’d best be careful… real careful.”

“They say music soothes the savage beast,” Leliana remarked, “but I’m not going to test that theory.”

“A High Dragon?” Zevran sighed, “we’re not planning on… actually fighting it are we? Couldn’t we just… sneak around it?”

“We are planning on fighting it, later,” she replied, “after the Urn.”

“Why?” Alistair asked.

“The Archdemon will be a giant dragon, with an army of Darkspawn,” she answered deciding to give a rational answer so that they didn’t think she’d gone completely insane, “if we can’t fight a High Dragon, what chances do you hope to pose against that? Don’t worry, we’ll get the others first. So let’s get the Ashes first, hm?”

“You have a point,” Alistair sighed.

“Of course I do,” she replied before walking to the entrance at the end of the ruined path they were on, “ah, see? That’s lava.”

Off to the left she saw a door, that might lead back to the temple… She’ll check it out later, this other door, straight ahead was definitely their destination.

“What is this place?” Alistair said in looking around, “it’s different from the rest of the ruins…”

“I feel like we’ve just entered a Grand Cleric’s bedchambers,” Zevran said lowly, “where no one has gone before.”

“We… we must be close,” Leliana replied, “this is holy ground. I can feel it.”

She didn’t feel like she was being burned alive, so she didn’t know what to make of that.

“I bid you welcome, pilgrims,” a Man, a Guardian, her instincts tell her says in greeting.

“Who are you?” she found herself asking barely keeping from running in the opposite direction.

She’d never handled ghosts well.

“I am the Guardian, the protector of the Urn of Sacred Ashes,” the Guardian answered, “I have waited years for this.”

“Why have you been here for so long?” Alistair asked.

“It has been my duty, my life, to protect the Urn and prepare the way for the faithful who come to revere Andraste,” the Guardian replied, “for years beyond counting have I been here, and I shall remain until my task is done and the Imperium has crumbled into the sea.”

“Will your task ever be done?” she asked.

“I do not know, and I do not question,” the Guardian replied.

“Who are the men who have taken over the rest of the temple?” she asked.

“When my brethren and I carried Andraste from Tevinter to this sanctuary, we vowed to forever revere Her memory, and guard Her,” the Guardian explained, “I have watched generations of my brethren take up the mantle of their fathers. For centuries they did this, unwavering, joyful, in their appointed task. But now they have lost their way. They have forgotten Andraste, and their promise.”

“And what about you?” Alistair asked, “who are you?”

“I am all that remains of the first disciples. I swore I would protect the Urn as long as I lived,” the Guardian replied, “and I have lived a very long time.”

“The first disciples?” Leliana asked, “did you know Andraste?”

“Did anyone really know Her, save the Maker?” the Guardian asked in return, “she would sometimes spend weeks alone in meditation, often without food or water.”

Buddha? Was she Buddha? Siddhartha Gautama, is that you?

“Please, tell me more about Andraste,” Leliana requested.

“I… cannot express in words my love for Andraste,” the Guardian answered, “you must seek Her out for yourself. Everyone must.”

“How is it possible to have lived for so long…” Alistair wondered aloud.

“I made a vow, to Andraste and to the Maker. My life is tied to the Ashes,” the Guardian replied, “as long as they remain, so will I.”

“We would like to see the Urn,” Alistair said.

“You have come to honor Andraste, and you shall,” the Guardian replied, “if you prove yourself worthy.”

Well, she was fucked.

“We need the Ashes to cure a dying man,” Alistair said.

“Still, you must prove yourself worthy,” the Guardian replied, “it is not my place to decide your worthiness. The Gauntlet does that… If you are found worthy, you will see the Urn and be allowed to take a small pinch of the Ashes for yourself. If not…”

Yep, she was definitely fucked.

“What is the Gauntlet?” Leliana asked.

“The Gauntlet tells the true pilgrims from the false,” the Guardian explained, “you will undergo four tests of faith, and we shall see how your soul fares.”

She was really, truly, definitely, fucked. 

Her soul? Her soul was in _shambles_ , and both her and her religion weren’t even on _speaking_ terms at the moment.

“Can you tell us anything else about this Gauntlet?” Alistair asked.

“You will understand what it is when you face it,” the Guardian replied.

“Very well,” Alistair said, “we will enter the Gauntlet.”

“Before you go, Traveler, there is something I must ask,” the Guardian said looking at her, “I see that the path that led you here was not easy… There is much suffering in your past— your suffering, and the suffering of others… By the time you reached he—”

“How do you know my past?” she asked sharply cutting him off.

“Your path is laid out before me and plain to see— in the lines of your face… and in the tattered and torn pieces of your heart,” the Guardian replied, “do you believe you failed her?”

Tattered and torn pieces of her heart… huh?

Well, he wasn’t wrong.

“Of course I did,” she replied ruefully, “how could I believe that I had done anything but? There were a thousand and one things I could have done differently…”

“Thank you, Traveler,” the Guardian replied, “that is all I wished to know.”

“You… are too hard on yourself,” Alistair said softly, “no one’s perfect…”

“You could not have known what would happen…” Leliana added, “you did what you thought was best.”

“And now, the self-flagellation?” Zevran sighed, and she lightly kicked his foot, “that is what comes next in these things, no?”

Also, Traveler… She wasn’t really surprised he knew since Flemeth had.

“And what of those that follow you?” the Guardian asked turning to look at Alistair, “Alistair, knight, and Warden… you wonder if things would have been different if you were with Duncan on the battlefield. You could have shielded him from the killing blow. You wonder, don’t you, if you should have died, and not him?”

“I… yes… If Duncan had been saved and not me, everything would be better,” Alistair admitted, “if I’d just had the chance, maybe…”

“LIES AND SLANDER!” she frowned, “it would _not_ have been better!”

Also, because she _shuddered_ to think what her life would be like right now if she were with _Duncan_ and not Alistair. She’d probably have just killed herself to be rid of him, she would have probably forgotten how to speak with how little she’d wanted to interact with him. Even just getting through that _month_ was agonizing.

She would have completely died as a person.

“And you… why do you say the Maker speaks to you when all know that the Maker has left?” the Guardian asked turning to Leliana now, “He spoke only to Andraste. Do you believe yourself Her equal?”

“I never said that! I—” Leliana argued.

“In Orlais, you were _someone_. In Lothering, you feared you would lose yourself, become a drab sister, and disappear,” the Guardian cut her off, “when your brothers and sisters of the cloister criticized you for what you professed, you were hurt, but you also reveled in it. It made you special. You enjoyed the attention, even if it was negative.”

“You’re saying I made it up, for… for the attention?” Leliana glowered, “I did not! I know what I believe!”

“And the Antivan Elf…” the Guardian said looking to Zevran.

“Oh, is it my turn now?” Zevran sighed, “hurrah. I’m so excited.”

“Many have died at your hand,” the Guardian said, “but is there any you regret more than a woman by the name of—”

“How do you know about that?” Zevran asked repeating her earlier question and sharply cutting him off.

A woman? Was he the cause of the death of someone he cared for?

Perhaps they were more similar than she’d thought.

Though in her case, her unthinking hands destroyed everything she cared for. She’d given in to madness and despair, and it ruined everything.

“I know much, it is allowed to me,” the Guardian replied, “the question stands, however. Do you regret—”

“Yes. The answer is yes, if that’s what you wish to know. I do,” Zevran snapped, “now, move on.”

“The way is open,” the Guardian said, “good luck, and may you find what you seek.”

She sighed heavily and leaned against a wall to recollect herself.

She hated religious shit like this.


	31. How the Cat Found the Holy Grail

He hated his experience with the Guardian, but he’d mentioned something that piqued his interest: his Warden’s heart was tattered and torn. Was her tattered and torn heart the reason she wished to die?

The more he learned about her, the more he saw their similarities continue to grow, making him wonder just how far they went.

Though the Guardian asked if she felt she had failed _her_ , just what had happened in his Warden’s past? What could have possibly happened to this kind and gentle woman? Ah, well, he was sure that none of her aggressors still counted among the living.

He caught her lowly muttering something to the effect of: _“I’d rather die than go on this journey with Duncan.”_

Did she not care for him as Alistair did? Why did his Warden join the Grey Wardens? Did she choose to? Or was she forced? Wardens have the Right of Conscription, so it was possible she was forced into joining them. Which would make sense, seeing as she had no plans to leave either Denerim or to join a military organization. 

He wondered if she’d forgive him for being thankful that she’d been forced into becoming to a Warden.

“By the way, Kalli,” Alistair said, “why did he call you ‘Traveler’? Flemeth called you that too.”

“How should I know?” Kallian shrugged walking through the opened door where they saw eight spectral figures, “hm.”

“Echoes from a shadow realm, whispers of things yet to come. Thought’s strange sister dwells in the night, is swept away by dawning light,” the Spectral Woman said, “of what do I speak?”

Ah, riddles.

“Dreams,” Leliana answered.

“A dream came upon me, as my daughter slumbered beneath my heart. It told of her life, and of her betrayal, and death,” the Woman nodded, “I am sorrow and regret. I am a Mother weeping bitter tears for a daughter she could not save.”

“I think… that was Brona, Andraste’s Mother,” Alistair commented.

“The smallest lark could carry it, while a strong man might not,” Another Spectral Woman asked, “of what do I speak?”

“Ah, a tune,” he answered.

“Yes, I was Andraste’s dearest friend in childhood, and always we would sing. She celebrated the beauty of life, and all who heard Her would be filled with joy,” the Woman replied, “they say the Maker Himself was moved by Andraste’s song, and then She sang no more of simple things…”

“That was Ealisay,” Leliana said.

“An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. The debt of blood must be paid in full,” Another Woman said, “of what do I speak?”

“Vengeance,” Alistair answered.

“Yes, my husband, Hessarian, would have chosen a quick death for Andraste. I made him swear that She would die publicly, with Her war-leaders, that all would know the Imperium’s strength,” the Woman replied, “I am justice. I am vengeance. Blood can only be repaid in blood.”

“Lady Vasilia,” Alistair said.

“I’d neither a guest nor a trespasser be; in this place I belong, that belongs also to me,” Shartan, most likely, said, “of what do I speak?”

“Home,” Leliana answered.

“It was my dream for the people to have a home of their own, where we would have no masters but ourselves,” Shartan said, “the enemy of my enemy is my friend, and thus we followed Andraste, against the Imperium… But she was betrayed, and so were we.”

“That was Shartan,” he commented, “obviously.”

“A poison of the soul, passion’s cruel counterpart; from love she grows, till love lies slain,” Maferath said, “of what do I speak?”

“Jealousy,” Leliana answered.

“Yes, jealousy drove me to betrayal. I was the greatest general of the Alamarri, but beside her I was nothing. Hundreds fell before Her on bended knee. They loved Her, as did the Maker,” Maferath replied, “I loved Her too, but what man can compare with a god?”

“Well, I suppose now we know,” Leliana pointed out, “Maferath betrayed Her out of jealousy: but not jealousy of Her power, but out of jealousy of the Maker for stealing Her love away.”

“I love you so much I hate you,” Kallian said, “it’s easy for emotions to get corrupted and twisted like that. Sad stuff, really.”

“The bones of the world stretch towards the sky’s embrace, veiled in white, like a bride greeting her groom,” the Man said, “of what do I speak?”

“Mountains,” Alistair answered.

“Yes, I carried Andraste’s Ashes out of Tevinter into the mountains to the east where She could gaze ever into Her Maker’s sky,” the Man nodded, “no more fitting a tomb than this could we find.”

“I think… that was the disciple Havard,” Leliana said.

“No man has seen it, but all men know it. Lighter than air, sharper than any sword. Comes from nothing, but will fell the strongest armies,” the Man asked, “of what do I speak?”

“Hunger,” he answered.

“Yes, hunger was the weapon used against the wicked men of the Tevinter Imperium, the Maker kindled the sun’s flame, scorching the land. Their crops failed, and their armies could not march. Then He opened the heavens and bade the waters flow, and washed away their filth,” Cathaire said, “I am Cathaire, a disciple of Andraste and commander of Her armies. I saw these things done, and knew the Maker smiled on us.”

“She wields the broken sword, and separates true kings from tyrants,” Hessarian said, or at least he thinks it’s Hessarian, “of what do I speak?”

“Mercy,” he answered.

“Yes, I could not bear the sight of Andraste’s suffering, and mercy bade me to end Her life,” Hessarian nodded, “I am the penitent sinner, who shows compassion as he hopes compassion will be shown to him.”

“Leli and Zevran tie for first place, with three,” Kallian announced, “and Ali-butt is in last with two.”

“And you could have answered all of them,” he pointed out dryly.

“Well, naturally,” Kallian stuck her tongue out at him, “but I thought it’d be fun to see how the rest of you do.”

“Do I get something for being in first?” he asked with a grin.

“Unfortunately, no,” Kallian replied walking through the next door.

And then she froze.

As did the rest of them.

In front of him stood Rinna.

***

“Hey,” Shianni said.

“Shianni…?” she said in a daze.

“Who else? It’s good to see you, I suppose,” Shianni replied, “life out there’s been good to you, hasn’t it? You’re respected, even among Humans.”

“I know, it’s gross, I hate it,” she replied, “I want to go home.”

“I suppose it’d be silly to ask if you remembered us, and what we still face,” Shianni replied wryly, “you never forgot… You’d never allow yourself to forget…”

“Of course not,” she replied ruefully, “it haunts me, and I’ll continue to let it haunt me until the day I die.”

“What happened… it wasn’t really your fault, you know… you were caught in the situation, just like the rest of us,” Shianni replied, “you have a great task to complete… I want you to take this. I think you should have it.”

“Thank you… Shianni,” she said taking the amulet while doing her damnedest to hold back her tears.

“Seeing you now gives me hope…” Shianni replied before vanishing like the others, “for all of us.”

She crouched down and pressed her palms into her eyes, and took a deep shuddering breath.

She hated religious shit like this.

“Well, that was… something,” Zevran sighed crouching down next to her, “are you alright, my dear Warden?”

“No, but I will be,” she sighed, “what about you?”

“I’ll live,” Zevran said with another sigh.

They both stood up and continued forwards.

“Oh fuck all kinds of—” she leapt back from the Masked Woman, and they began dancing. Flowing around each other, clashing against each other.

This was ten times worse than her dreams, she parried, dodged, and moved, but this woman, this other her, knew all of her moves, knew her mind. And could do it far better than she could, because this woman accepted everything, while she was in denial, in her periphery she saw the others deal with their own shades.

“Butt out!” both she and her other-self snarled angrily as they tried to intervene.

She felt something wet running down her leg, and acknowledged the pain associated with it, and then threw it from her mind as she continued to move. Don’t stop moving, keep flowing, she felt something wet running down her arm, and like her leg, acknowledged the pain, and then tossed it from her mind. Weapons got discarded and she deflected a blow to her vitals, and they continued to clash, fists, palms, fingers, feet. Until she was on her back, and the woman was on top of her strangling her.

“Stay the fuck out of this!” they both snarled again to the others.

“Just—”

“NO, ON ACCOUNT OF I DON’T WANT TO!” she shouted angrily interrupting her, “not yet… so, please… not yet.”

“Fine…” the Woman replied and the pressure on her throat eased.

“Yep, see you later,” she wheezed as the woman leapt back off of her.

The woman disappeared and she covered her eyes with her arm.

“If she hadn’t been going easy on me,” she groaned, “I would have died no less than ten times over.”

She gently pressed her fingers to the areas where she had definitely taken damage, and her hands came clean. No blood, her wounds were gone, her clothes weren’t even torn.

Interesting.

“What was that about?” Alistair asked.

“The me that hates me above all else, and let’s just leave it there, alright? The only one who can overcome my own self-hatred is myself,” she sighed doing a kip-up, “this place sucks… I suppose that’s what makes it a gauntlet…”

“Well, that was…” Alistair sighed, “weird… to say the least.”

“Did you see the cruelty on my… on her face?” Leliana asked, “is that really what I am?”

“Maker’s breath, I’m beautiful, did you see that?” Zevran replied, “did you see me? Magnificent.”

“By the way, what was that mask you… she was wearing?” Alistair asked.

“A visual representation on how monstrous I am,” she replied, “I suppose.”

In reality, _oni_ could be seen as either good or evil. They could be protectors and tricksters, it really depended on the type. Honestly, it was rather fitting, that that was the mask she wore… Especially since they were also generally the ones who dished out the punishments in the Japanese afterlife for malicious people.

Still, if she had a choice, she’d like to go with the cliched _kitsune_ mask…

Maybe she should make one.

“In Orlais, we wore similar masks,” Leliana said, “though I’ve never seen one with that design… It was monstrous, but also elegant.”

“Oh, kind of like Kalli, then,” Alistair remarked and she kicked his foot.

***

It was the first time anyone, besides Alistair, had seen his Warden get hit.

Her own self-hatred had manifested into that? A raging beast that was far stronger, and faster than her?

Just how much did his Warden hate herself?

And why?

“Uh oh,” Alistair sighed, “I’m terrible at puzzles.”

“Let’s see… Andraste loved Her disciples as She loved the Maker,” Kallian said reading an inscription, “as we have faith in the Maker, so must we have faith in our friends.”

“Oh, this looks fun!” Leliana said, “I bet we’ll have to work together and join hands and sing a happy song to get across!”

“I have faith in my friends well enough,” he sighed, “faith that they will one day stab me in my back.”

He felt a sharp pain in his lower back, and turned to look.

With the deepest frown she could muster, his Warden was pressing the pommel of a sheathed dagger into his back. 

“That statement pissed me off,” Kallian stated, “if anyone here gets stabbed in the back, it’ll be me. Because I’m stupidly over-trusting.”

She was holding it by the sheath, he could easily take the dagger from its sheath and stab her to death with it. Likely to illustrate the point she was making.

“…That’s true,” Alistair said.

“If possible, I would like to die believing the best of people, rather than assuming the worst,” Kallian replied, “so, Amicably Avid Alistair throw me across.”

“No,” he frowned.

“Why not?” Kallian asked, “it’ll be fun.”

“Kalli, it’s a far drop,” Alistair replied.

“Yeah, either way, it’ll be fun,” Kallian replied, “I have faith that you’ll be able to get me across.”

“No,” he repeated firmly.

“You’re not Alistair,” Kallian pointed out.

“No.”

“Boo hisss,” Kallian sighed and poked a tile with her foot and a path showed up.

“Ooooohh, look at that,” Alistair said, “I don’t think it’s solid enough to stand on, but it’s a start.”

“Oooh! A path that looks like it’s there, but is really a trap!” he said excitedly, “I want one!”

Kallian snorted, and turned away when he frowned at her.

“Man… I’m super bad at puzzles like this,” Kallian sighed, “can’t you just… throw me across?”

“No,” Alistair said firmly.

“Ughhh…” Kallian groaned, took out a piece of parchment, burned a small stick of wood and began walking over each tile and recording things then shoved the piece of paper into Alistair’s chest, “your turn.”

“Oh! Uh… Leliana, stand on the… second right tile, Zevran go stand on the third one on the left,” Alistair said staring down at the piece of paper, “and I’ll stand on the sixth on the left…”

“Forward march,” Kallian said and after testing the tile with her foot walked as far forward as she could.

“And noowww… Zevran move to the fourth one on the right,” Alistair ordered, “and Leliana, move to the first left tile.”

“Yaaaay, one more tile to go,” Kallian cheered, “I could probably just jump across it but the Guardian might get angry at me for cheating.”

“I’ll move to the fifth right tile…” Alistair said walking over, “and now Zevran, go to the fifth tile on the left.”

And the bridge appeared.

“Maker’s breath,” Alistair sighed, “Andraste only favored the clever, it seems.”

“Yaay,” Kallian cheered, “congratulations, Alistair.”

“That was exciting!” Leliana said, “can we do it again?”

“I’m sure there’s a moral in here… something about building bridges with friends, and such,” he remarked, “something poetic… oh, well.”

“Death happens,” Kallian replied, “cry me a river, build me a bridge and get over it?”

“Annnnnnnnnnd you ruined it,” Alistair sighed.

“You’re welcome,” Kallian replied with a grin.

They saw a wall of flame with an altar in front of it… and across the wall of flame… was the Urn.

“Mother of Mercy!” he said in shock, “it… it is real!”

“By the Maker, it’s… it’s the Urn of Sacred Ashes!” Alistair said, “that’s it! That’s really it!”

“I… I… I don’t know what to say…” Leliana said.

“I am feeling feelings,” Kallian said, “and I’m not quite sure what they are yet.”

***

She brushed the dust off of the stone slab to read the inscription.

“Cast off the trappings of worldly life and cloak yourself in the goodness of spirit. King and slave, lord and beggar,” Alistair read, “be born anew in the Maker’s sight.”

“Here’s a question I never thought I’d be asking,” she said, “but how naked do you think it wants us to get?”

“We can… probably keep our underclothes on,” Leliana replied.

“’Kay,” she replied and took off her shirt, she didn’t wear breast bands when they were on the road. They didn’t offer enough support, so she wasn’t really worried about her boobs being out. She heard the others start stripping as well and noticed Zevran staring at her while she neatly folded her clothes, and didn’t know what to make of the look on his face. She knew what that look was, she’d seen people looking at her with it before, but their gazes had filled her with disgust, his didn’t.

And she wasn’t sure how she should feel about it.

She refused to look at any part of a person besides their faces at current, so she left her belongings at the alter and crossed over the fire. It was a little surprising that she didn’t burn to death since she was no follower of Andraste.

“You have been through the trials of the Gauntlet; you have walked the path of Andraste, and like Her, you have been cleansed,” the Guardian said from behind her, “you have proven yourselves worthy, pilgrim. Approach the Sacred Ashes.”

There was a bright light, and she was wearing her clothes again.

“Ooooh, nifty,” she said inspecting her sleeve pockets, they were filled just as she expected.

Quite frankly, she felt the light in her eyes die a little.

The Holy Grail.

They found the Holy Grail…

In fact, this place was practically Avalon.

They found Avalon and the Holy Grail.

What the actual fuck? That dragon outside needed to die, she was sure of that now more than ever.

She needed its bones.

“I never dreamed I would ever lay my eyes on the Urn of Sacred Ashes,” Leliana said in bewilderment, “I… I… I have no words to express—”

“I didn’t think anyone could succeed in finding Andraste’s final resting place,” Alistair said in awe, “but here… here She is…”

“Nice vase,” Zevran said, “I should get one for my house.”

“You have a house?” she asked.

“Why… do we bring you two _anywhere_?” Alistair groaned.

“Yeah, Zevran,” she said, “I bet Wynne would have loved to be here.”

“You’re just as bad,” Alistair frowned.

“And that is why you should take the pinch,” she replied handing him a leather pouch, “I don’t want to suffer a lightning bolt to the face.”

With a sigh, Alistair took the pouch and took a pinch of the Ashes.

“Now we just have to get back to Redcliffe,” Alistair said pulling the drawstring on the pouch and handing it back to her, though, she just stared at it, “I’d feel safer if it were in your hands than mine… I’m afraid of misplacing it.”

“Very well,” she replied taking the pouch with a sigh, and stashing it in one of the pockets in her sleeves, “now to kill a dragon.”

They went back to the mountain top, and she took a moment to admire the lava. It’s literally been an entire lifetime since the last time she’d seen it. Because of _course_ , she’d seen lava in her past life, she lived on a dormant volcano, next to a volcano that was more or less in a state of constant eruption. There were even lava tours.

She led them through the door she’d spotted earlier. Like she thought, it leads back into the temple.

And also as she’d thought, Sten had already skinned the drakes for her. Though, Morrigan and Wynne were gone. Likely to the library she’d told them about earlier.

“Ah, thank you for skinning them for me,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” Sten replied.

“Welcome back! You were gone for quite some time,” Brother Genitivi said greeting them, “well? Did you find it?”

She took the pouch from her sleeve and held it out to Brother Genitivi.

“Is that… oh, there is some dust on— no, that’s not dust… oh, Maker,” Brother Genitivi said trailing off, “I’m not worthy to look upon… What… what was it like? Coming to the Urn, I mean?”

“Like… succeeding in an impossible quest,” she answered taking the pouch back, “it made me feel things… overwhelmed with emotion, I suppose would be a good enough descriptor.”

“You are a very fortunate person, and so am I,” Brother Genitivi said, “perhaps my research will not seem so much like blasphemy to the Chantry now… We must organize an expedition. There is so much history here. It must be studied… and… and pilgrims should be allowed to come to the Urn.”

“I think the Guardian of the Gauntlet would like that,” she replied.

“The Guardian of the Gauntlet?” Brother Genitivi asked.

“He said he was one of Andraste’s first disciples,” she recounted a finger to her chin, “and he’d been waiting a long time for this.”

“One of the—” Brother Genitivi said in shock, “one of the first disciples!?”

“Yes,” she nodded, “and he was the real deal, I know that much.”

“Are you certain?” Brother Genitivi asked.

“Very,” she nodded.

“Let’s hope there’s a lot of Andraste to go around,” Alistair said and she kicked him.

“I must return home, I have much to do,” Brother Genitivi said, “if you ever find yourself in Denerim… please visit me. I am not a rich man, but I have a small collection of… interesting artifacts and I do owe you a reward for coming to my rescue.”

“Nonsense,” she replied, “you led us here… We’ll be heading back to Redcliffe in a few hours if you wouldn’t mind waiting a bit.”

“No, thank you for the offer, but I’ll be able to find my own way,” Brother Genitivi replied, “I hope to see you soon, my friend.”

“Until we meet again,” she nodded before turning to Sten, “Strongly Stoic Sten, do you wanna kill a dragon?”

“Very much so,” Sten replied, she could practically see the light dancing in his eyes and she went to go find Morrigan and Wynne.

***

“Must we fight this?” Morrigan asked, “a dragon such as this is better avoided than engaged.”

“I’m not afraid, it wouldn’t eat me anyhow,” Wynne chuckled, “tough and stringy… you, on the other hand, ought to be worried.”

“How will we be getting its attention?” he asked.

“Easy,” Kallian replied with a wink before taking in a deep breath, and then letting out a loud bestial roar, “incoming dragon.”

“Now _that_ is an _ataashi!”_ he laughed.

“You two are crazy!” Alistair shouted as the dragon landed.

Both he, Kallian, and Zevran let everyone dance around grabbing its attention, dodging around as needed studying its movement patterns before making their own moves. 

Kallian was already dodging around closing the distance between them, fearlessly dodging attacks by mere centimeters. He lost sight of her until something slammed into the dragon’s skull from above. She’d used one of its wings to launch herself skyward, likely using the movement of it to gain even more height in order to put more power behind her strike.

“I don’t think I’ll be getting that sword back,” Kallian said sitting on the ground her head moving around in a daze, “wooo dizzy… I went flllyyyying.”

“The amount of power that tiny body is capable of,” Alistair said breathing heavily, “is insane.”

“Thanks, I worked hard for this,” Kallian replied still dizzy, “ah, Leli, can we share a tent until we get to Redcliffe?”

“Of course, why?” Leliana asked.

“I’m gonna go get my tent then,” Kallian said disappearing, after a while, she came back, and spread out the canvas of her tent, “can you please help me carve this? I want its bones and scales.”

“Why are you stripping?” he asked as they began to prepare for the task.

“I don’t want blood on _all_ of my clothes,” Kallian answered before beginning to hack into the dragon’s corpse, and they spent some time carving into the beast.

“How are you so unshakable?” Alistair asked as Kallian flung a bone over her shoulder and onto the canvas of the tent, “it feels like… no matter what happens you’ll be able to get over it.”

“Because nature has taught me important lessons: Grounded as the Earth. Passionate as the Fire. Flexible as the Water. Free as the Wind,” Kallian answered, “in my opinion, these are best qualities a person can have, and they are things that can be learned from the four basic elements.”

“You should be a priest,” he remarked as he tossed a bone onto the canvas, “not a Grey Warden nor a servant.”

“Yelch… no, I’d rather not be anything stemmed in religion, I refuse to tell people what to believe,” Kallian replied, “belief is something that should come from within, regardless of outside influences. People often forget one very important thing in regards to religion: it should be about finding _your own inner peace_ not _forcing a system of beliefs unto others_. People take different roads seeking fulfillment and happiness, just because they’re not on yours does not mean they’ve gotten lost.”

“Kalli, you’re not Andrastian, are you?” Leliana asked.

“Nope, far from it, in fact,” Kallian replied without a second thought, “when it comes down to it, _I don’t care_ whether the Maker exists or not, though if He does _I hope He never comes back.”_

“What?!” Alistair said in shock, “why?!”

“Because I looked at the Chant of Light logically,” Kallian replied, “and deduced, that the Chantry is trying to bring about the end of times.”

“How is the Chantry trying to bring about the end of times?” Leliana asked in alarm.

“Because if the Chant of Light is sung from every corner of the world,” Kallian explained, “then the Maker will transform the world into a paradise… This is a weird discussion to be having while carving into the body of a High Dragon.”

“How is that bringing about the end of times?” Alistair asked.

“It’s actually quite simple, really: by getting rid of all the _evil_ in the world, you are simultaneously _negating_ all of the _good_ in the world,” Kallian continued, “in short, you’re creating a world of complete and utter _nothingness_. You’re creating a world without any _meaning_. The world would be _meaningless_ in every single way possible. All the world would be is a stagnant space with people who have zero faults, zero virtues, zero personality, zero… anything, really… Or rather, it’s actually more likely that even _people_ wouldn’t exist anymore.

“There would be neither good nor evil because they would no longer even so much as _exist_. Things exist in _dualities_ : you _need_ one in order to have the other. If neither _exist_ , then logic dictates, that you would also _know_ neither. You would know neither Happiness nor Despair. Compassion nor Greed. Love nor Hatred. Peace nor Conflict… And in my opinion, that is the most abhorrent sin one could ever possibly achieve. You would be creating a world of _meaninglessness_ , you would be destroying _everything_ that makes the world _beautiful_ , beautiful. That’s what I mean when I say that it’s bringing about the end of times, because your goal is to bring Him back to transform the world into a paradise, and while a that’s nice thought and all… You’re still _destroying_ all of the _meaning_ the world has.

“There is also the simple fact that I cannot agree with the Chantry’s genocidal tendencies. However, just because I don’t believe doesn’t mean you can’t. If you want to believe in the Maker, then you’re free to do so, however, religion isn’t a one size fits all kind of thing, never has been, never will be. It’s unreasonable to try to make it so, people will always have different views on life, different values, different experiences. Forcing people to conform to one belief system is cruel, and unjust.”

“That’s right… you did say something about genocide earlier…” Alistair said.

“Yes, the Chantry is _very_ genocidal, there are eight stages of genocide, you know? One: Classification, where you separate people into us, or them. There are many examples of this, the treatment of Elves in cities, the treatment of the Dalish, the treatment of mages. Two: Symbolization, where you force a symbol upon the unwilling. Once again, mages, not only that but I have yet to see an Elven Mother. Three: Dehumanization, where one group denies the humanity of the other group. Once again, mages, and also Elves. Four: Organization, where special military units are trained to deal with others. Again, mages and Templars, not only that but the City Guard are always watching us. Five: Polarization, when you spread propaganda against another group. Elves, and mages. Again. Six: Preparation, where people get separated by religious identity, race, or abilities. Elves, and mages, again. Seven: Extermination, where people view their massacre and slaughter as justified. Purges that Alienages can go through, the Right of Annulment, and the Exalted Marches. Eight: Denial, denying that any crime was committed. The Exalted Marches, were cruel, but there are many who think they were just, when they were anything but. People think that the Right of Annulment is something that had to be done… They’re denying the fact that what was done to these other groups of people was anything but one-sided slaughter… Mages and Elves, we’re not animals. We’re people too, y’know? We have thoughts, we have feelings, one-sidedly deciding we’re evil is pretty heartless.”

“‘Tis a rather strange thing, that the one who better knows how to reject the Maker,” Morrigan pointed out, “‘twas not I, but rather our dear sweet Kallian.”

“In our quest for freedom, truth is the only weapon we possess,” Kallian replied, “I like to contemplate existence a lot.”

“Is that why you’re always star-gazing?” Leliana asked.

“Partially,” Kallian replied, “there are people who like to say that we become stars when we die… And there are also people who believe that no matter where you are, no matter how far apart you are, you’re still connected under the sky. My family is somewhere underneath that very same sky.”

He’d always thought so, but when Kallian spoke of philosophy and wisdom, one could not help but listen. For someone only eighteen years of age, her wisdom seemed boundless.

“Are you sure you’re only eighteen?” Wynne asked.

“It’d be sad if I didn’t know my own age,” Kallian replied wryly, “in the end, it’s all about that golden rule: treat others the way you want to be treated. I treat others with kindness, compassion, patience, tolerance, and generosity because that is how I would like to be treated. I would also prefer not to be killed for what I am, and what my beliefs are. I would also like for people to not shove their religions and beliefs down my throat, so please no… Not only that but my biggest desire, is to just live in a world where people weren’t such _assholes_ to each other, you know? Is that so wrong?”

“People can’t just get along, as you hope,” Morrigan stated.

“Why not?” Kallian asked tossing another bone over her shoulder, “why can’t we live in a world where nurturing kindness, compassion, understanding, and tolerance is the norm? Where we can also celebrate our individualities, not persecute them? Where people can get along, no matter what gods they follow? Hm?”

“…Kalli, you _really_ love philosophy, don’t you?” Alistair asked.

“What’s there not to love about philosophy?” Kallian replied with a grin before standing up, “this is the most blood I’ve ever been covered in, in my entire life. I feel like I’ve taken a literal blood bath.”

“What do you believe in, Kalli?” Leliana asked.

“Currently, my religion and I aren’t on speaking terms, we both wanted different things,” Kallian waved her hand around, “I’m sure we’ll work something out eventually, but for now I’m pretty content with being a rebellious brat… Regardless, it doesn’t matter if we are on speaking terms or not: I have yet to let go of my values. Ultimately, religion isn’t necessary to survive, you can live with or without it.”

“I did not know that religions and their followers could be not on speaking terms,” he stated.

“Well, now you do,” Kallian replied, “we used to be on very good speaking terms, my religion and I… but just like what can happen with any relationship, things happened and it soured.”

***

A Purge.

She should be surprised it took this long for one to happen, given what happened to Vaughan.

This… this will kill Kallian when she comes home, especially considering what happened at Ostagar and everything else that she was being forced to deal with. Kallian was a strong woman, but even strong women had their limits, and this would likely push her past hers. Her cousin loved and cared for others deeply, and when she learned of what happened to the orphanage…

Part of her wanted her cousin to never come home. 

Never come home so that she didn’t see this carnage, the aftermath of her actions.

“Soris, what’s this?” she asked holding up a letter addressed to Kallian.

“Nelaros wrote that before they went to the Arl’s estate,” Cyrion answered sadly, it still hurt him that she was gone, but she couldn’t let the others know, “in case he didn’t come back.”

She’ll keep this safe for her.

***

He needed to immediately excuse himself after they decided to spend the night in the now empty village.

He’d imagined, fantasized, even, about what her body would look like before, but it was better than he could have ever dreamed. It was shapelier than he’d thought, well-formed with gentle curves… He’d never seen a more beautiful woman.

What he wouldn’t give to have her all to himself.

She likely knew what he was doing, she’d said that he was free to look and think what he wanted, so now he was doing just that. It wasn’t the first time he’d pleasured himself to thoughts of her, and it would not be the last.

But he knew that he didn’t simply want sex from her, what he wanted was her everything. 

He wanted her to give him her everything. He wanted to give her his everything.

Something she wouldn’t give him, unless she could be convinced to abandon her quest to seek her own death.

And he didn’t want to lose her like he’d lost Rinna.

***

Zevran had disappeared to who knows where, to do she knows what as she cooked dinner.

She experimentally fried up a piece of dragon, lightly seasoned.

“Ohhhh… this is nice,” she said hands on her cheeks and decided to make dragon steak.

She’ll preserve the rest of the meat and make a stew from it another day.

“That smells really good,” Alistair said.

“I know right?!” she replied brightly, as she made a sauce from Antivan brandy, Zevran wasn’t here to stop her, “dragon steak! I never thought I would cook such a thing.”

She’ll make some dessert too, it seemed fitting since it was a bit of an extravagant meal, and she wanted to do the dragon steak justice. Not only that, but she was in a house, with a _proper_ kitchen.

“You would have made a fine wife and Mother,” Bodahn said.

“Well, that was the life I was planning on living,” she stated, noticing Zevran returning, “so thank you for the compliment.”

“Kallian, do you mind if I ask you why you were recruited into the Grey Wardens?” Wynne asked, and immediately all eyes flew towards her.

“Because I am my Mother’s daughter,” she sighed finally relenting.

“If you still don’t want to talk a—”

“No, it's literally because I am my Mother's daughter,” she sighed again as she cut Alistair off, “Duncan didn’t want to recruit ‘Kallian Tabris’, the one Duncan wanted to recruit was the ‘Child of Adaia Tabris’, meaning he made a special trip to the Denerim Alienage to recruit the ‘Child of Adaia Tabris’. I just so happened to be that child. If I weren’t I might not even be here. My skills and abilities were just happenstance.”

“Well, now I know why it pisses you off to think about,” Alistair remarked, “that would piss anyone off.”

“Pretty much,” she nodded, “not sure how, but he somehow managed to get wind of the fact that my Mother had passed her training down to me… I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t colossally messed up.”

“Messed up? You messed up? How?” Alistair asked.

“I allowed myself to be seen,” she explained, “my Mother had told me to _never_ under _any_ circumstances so much as enter his field of vision… but my cousin was getting married that day and I couldn’t hide.”

“Your Mother told you to avoid him?” Leliana asked.

“She didn’t want me joining the Wardens,” she sighed, “according to my Father, she’d even threatened him to stay away from me… Ah well, I had my heart shattered around that time so it’s whatever really.”

“ _You_ had your heartbroken?!” Alistair balked, “ _you?!”_

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” she frowned, “you’re not getting to hear the rest of that story now.”

“You cannot just leave it like that,” Leliana replied.

“Sure I can,” she replied, “because I just did.”

“Who broke your heart, my dear Warden?” Zevran asked, “name him and he shall be dead.”

“No,” she replied.

***

She had her heart broken? He had a feeling there was more to it than that, a simple broken heart wouldn’t give her a death wish.

_“The women in my family have always been described as fiery. But while beautiful and enchanting, fire still burns and harms everything it touches.”_

_“I should know…”_

He felt like he was getting closer to unraveling the mystery she’d locked away inside of her. He wondered if she said the things she did on purpose. If she purposefully gave them vague, and cryptic hints of her pain, wondering if anyone would pick up on it… She probably did. That was the kind of person she was.

After dinner, she’d vanished, and of course, he followed.

“You made dinner using my brandy,” he said dryly sitting next to her on the roof.

“Why yes, yes I did,” Kallian replied, “you weren’t there to stop me.”

There were a thousand questions he wanted to ask her, but he doubted she’d answer a single one of them. He wanted to ask her who she’d failed, but he didn’t want to talk to her about Rinna, not quite yet.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to find you a prostitute or two when we go to Denerim next?” Kallian asked.

“Very,” he replied as he gently grabbed a lock of her hair and she turned to look at him as he pressed a kiss to it, and watched as her face flushed red, before she immediately hid her face in her knees.

“…Go bald and die, stupid,” Kallian grumbled into her knees.

“I think that’s the cruelest thing someone’s ever said to me,” he chuckled, “I am quite fond of my hair, my dear Warden.”

“I know, you spend a lot of time on it,” Kallian replied dryly.

“You spend quite a bit of time on yours as well,” he pointed out.

“Because it’s long,” Kallian replied flatly, “so of course I need to spend more time on it… Though I suppose I could cut it.”

“I would rather you not,” he replied.

“It’s my hair, I can do what I want with it,” Kallian said dismissively, before standing up, “we’re leaving at first light. Best get some rest.”


	32. How the Cat Cured the Arl

They were now on their way back to Redcliffe, and all she did was hope this supposed panacea did the trick. She also needed to go back to Denerim to have Excalibur made, by the time this Blight was over, Alistair would be King of Ferelden, and he would wield a sword named Excalibur. She would make it happen, or die trying. 

Which was honestly far more likely.

Still, finding the Urn of Sacred Ashes was another weird event. That _almost_ topped being bowed to and offered an heirloom helm by a bann. Every time she thinks she’s getting used to this bullshit, something else happens and throws her off-kilter. Honestly, she was just glad that she’s completely given up trying to make sense of anything. It took a while, but she got there. Nothing made sense anymore and trying to make sense of it was stressing her out.

Even _she_ didn’t make sense to her anymore.

Out of curiosity she picked up the lute she’d given Leliana, held it like she’d hold an ukulele and strummed.

And then felt the light in her eyes go out as she stared at her fingers in disappointment.

“…Seriously?” she grumbled quietly to herself but kept trying to strum it only to grow more and more frustrated with herself, “I give up.”

“Do you want me to teach you?” Leliana offered.

“No, it’d be a waste of time,” she replied staring at her with dead eyes, as she handed the lute back to Leliana, “my fingers are too stupid for this.”

“By the way, Morrigan,” Alistair said, “was the Tower of Magi everything you thought it would be?”

“Abominations running rampant? Templars ready to kill every mage in sight?” Morrigan replied, “yes, it rather met all my expectations.”

“You don’t think you might have been better off getting your training there?” Alistair asked, “instead of whatever your Mother taught you?”

“You’re right, my Mother didn’t nearly have as many abominations running about,” Morrigan replied, “that certainly would have improved my education.”

“Hmmm… I’ll give you that one,” Alistair sighed.

“I’m so relieved,” Morrigan replied dryly.

She should probably hold off on writing what she remembered of the _Tao Te Ching_ while sharing a tent with Leliana. But she did begin secretly reading books on the previous Blights, putting a different sleeve jacket on them just in case she figured out something she didn’t want Alistair to know.

“We’ve seen… and touched Andraste’s Ashes,” Leliana sighed, “they are the holiest thing on this earth— the remains of the Maker’s Chosen.”

“It’s crazy,” she replied eye-ing the leather pouch, “that we actually managed to find Her.”

“I do not know if I am worthy to look upon Her,” Leliana replied.

“You’re worthier than I am,” she replied dryly, “plus, She fought for everyone. So She belongs to us all.”

“Yes, of course, but it still is…” Leliana trailed off, “something to be in awe of.”

“That’s true,” she replied, “are you feeling better about what happened with Marjolaine?”

“Yes… a little better, time heals all wounds, so they say,” Leliana replied, “scars remain but they are just… colors in the painting that is my life, no?”

“They add to the complexity and beauty of the piece,” she nodded.

“Yes… that is what I’m saying,” Leliana nodded, “I wish things had happened differently but knowing her, and knowing me, I don’t think it could have… We had good times though, and I look back on those fondly… Whatever happened after will never change the truth of the past.”

“You know you can talk to me if you need,” she replied.

“It’s not so bad… look, now I have new friends, a new family,” Leliana smiled, “in spite of it all, life… life is good.”

***

They were two days away from Redcliffe now and Kallian had been looking over his homework, and giving him more. She was making him think about the world in different ways, and honestly it was an eye-opening experience, to say the least. She wasn’t lying when she’d said that by the time they were done, he’d have changed his perspectives at least twice. At this point, he’d changed them more than twice, he was sure now more than ever that they should make her the Teyrna of Gwaren.

“You’re getting it,” Kallian smiled after looking over his homework, “not only that, but you’ve been a bit more observant lately as well. I’m proud of you.”

“I have a good teacher,” he replied before turning to Zevran, “so, Zevran, why would the Crows send you?”

“Is there some reason why they should not?” Zevran asked in return.

“Plenty of reasons,” he stated, “starting with the fact that you weren’t exactly the best they had, were you?”

“Slander and lies,” Zevran sighed ignoring Kallian’s snort, “for shame, Alistair.”

“I’m not an idiot. Well, not most of the time,” he replied, “you’re no raw recruit, but I’ve seen you fight. You’re no master of combat, by any means… I mean, we have an actual master of combat here.”

“I hope you’re not referring to me,” Kallian called out.

“I am,” he said.

“Boo hiss!”

“Assuming that I intended a fair fight,” Zevran replied, “that would indeed be a problem.”

“But the Crows must have master assassins, the way you describe them,” he replied, “men with years and years of experience… and who probably wouldn’t lose to an eighteen-year-old woman with practically zero experience. Why not send them?”

“Why not, indeed? It is a mystery for the ages,” Zevran replied, “not only that, but she would have easily made it to the rank of Talon.”

“What’s that?” Kallian asked.

“One of the highest ranks in the Crows, my dear Warden,” Zevran replied.

“Ew, no.”

“Kalli is probably the only person who would be offered a higher position in an organization and respond with ‘ew, no’,” Leliana mused.

“Of course I’d say ‘ew, no’,” Kallian replied, “I hate standing out.”

“Kalli… you stand out just by existing,” he pointed out.

“It’s true, my dear Warden,” Zevran nodded, “you do.”

“I’m feeling attacked,” Kallian replied, “I am but a simple Elven woman who was merely in a place at a time.”

“How very specific,” Morrigan said.

“Still on the fence about whether it was the right place at the right time, the right place at the wrong time, the wrong place at the right time, or the wrong place at the wrong time,” Kallian said waving a sleeve around, “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

“I think it was the right place at the right time, my dear Warden,” Zevran replied.

“Agreed,” he nodded.

“Glad you think so,” Kallian replied.

“Do you not think so?” Wynne asked.

“I told you, I’m still on the fence about it,” Kallian replied, “in any case, why would a cat join a group of birds? Beyond lions, cats are solitary hunters.”

***

His Warden was looking at him curiously, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“You know, Zevran,” Kallian said, “I haven’t heard you say my name in months.”

“That’s true,” Leliana nodded, “he hasn’t called you by name since… maybe Redcliffe?”

“Something like that, yeah,” Kallian nodded, “though he calls everyone else by name.”

Even in his mind, he rarely called her Kallian, he mostly thought of her as his Warden, as if she were his. As if she belonged to him, as if she were his personal Warden.

And honestly, that was what he wanted. He wanted her to be his, he wanted to have claim over her, he wanted her, and the thought of her belonging to someone else annoyed him.

“Oh? You want me to call you by your name?” he grinned, “that’s fine with me, Kallian.”

“?!?!?!?!?!?!?” Kallian’s eyes widened as she suddenly sat up straight and her face flushed red, “whoa, whoa, whoa!? What is even happening?!”

“Kalli, are you okay?” Alistair asked in alarm.

“I don’t know?!” Kallian replied before pointing at him, “but you’re no longer allowed to call me by my name!”

How interesting… To think calling her by name would have this kind of effect on her.

He’ll have to remember this for later.

***

They were a day away from Redcliffe when she cracked the code:

Dumat had returned after being struck down, and that was all she needed to know, but she went through the studies on the other Blights, just in case.

Her questions were answered, the reason Grey Wardens had to physically alter their bodies, the reason why Grey Wardens were the only ones who could defeat the Blight.

This… she’ll never tell Alistair… 

A Grey Warden must be sacrificed in order to end the Blight.

She discreetly destroyed the books so that Alistair would _never_ find out. If anyone was going to die to end the Blight, it _needed_ to be her. 

Her hand moved to the ring she wore around her neck and clutched it. Perhaps she will be able to find her redemption in death after all. Alistair… she knew Alistair would go on to do great things once the Blight was over. But her? Her sins were endless, her hands bloodied, she remembered Nelaros, his blood smeared on her face, his hands as they grew cold, her dress weighed down by blood. How she was too slow to stop him from dying… And even if they weren’t endless… She was tired, she was tired of ruining everything, she was tired of being too slow, she was tired of dreaming, she was tired of existing. Alistair wasn’t like that, he wasn’t completely and utterly mentally and emotionally fatigued, as she was. Honestly, if anything, this was a blessing for her. She had no intention to live past its duration anyway, so for her to be able to have her death mean something… really was a bit of a blessing.

And then she remembered the words of the goddess who sent her over to this world.

That’s right, her soul had been demanded.

This was the reason she was alive, the reason she had been reborn in this world.

Some people just aren’t meant to have happy lives, and she was one of them, she guessed.

Why couldn’t she be better at pushing people away? Perhaps she really should just say fuck it and ditch them and continue forwards on her own, before it’s too late…

But she knew. 

She knew that it was already too late.

All she could do now, was feign ignorance, and pretend that she didn’t know how to end the Blight. 

Ah, well, she was already pretending that she would continue to live past its end as well, so it wasn’t really all that difficult or different.

***

Apparently, Alistair, would be forcing them to rest a few days in Redcliffe, for the ‘sake of Kallian’s sanity’. Which meant that she’d have to wait longer until Flemeth would be killed, though… from what was said, even she was concerned. Kallian had hit her head against a wall and began uttering muttered nonsense? It did not seem like something Kallian would do if she were completely in control of her sanity. Though, ‘twas interesting… From what she’d heard, even the Guardian of the Gauntlet had called Kallian ‘Traveler’. Just what did her Mother and the Guardian see in her to call her such?

“You must be vastly relieved, Wynne,” she mused.

“Relieved? I do not understand what you mean,” Wynne replied.

“Most your age would spend much of their time preoccupied, wondering when they might perish,” she replied, “yet you already know.”

“Eavesdropping is not considered very polite, dear,” Wynne sighed.

“A fortunate thing, then, that I do not consider myself bound by such rules.”

“In response to your question: I know only that I died once. I do not know how much time I have left… only that it is very little.”

“That is not so different from before, surely. You are an old woman.”

“One who keenly appreciates that our time in this world should be spent doing what is important.”

“I have always lived by such a philosophy.”

“How reassuring.”

“I’ve always lived knowing that death happens,” Kallian said speaking up, “and that I should live life to the fullest.”

“You did say that even if you were cut down right now, you’d be fine with it,” Leliana nodded, “because you enjoyed the life you lived.”

“The Willful Cat will do as she pleases, because she knows that death approaches from all angles,” Kallian replied, “too bad I’m probably down to four lives.”

“Four lives?” Alistair asked.

“Cat’s have nine lives,” Kallian replied, “I’ve probably lost five already… I know I _definitely_ lost at least one at Ostagar.”

“You’re not an actual cat, you know,” Alistair pointed out.

“Nyaaaaaaaaa,” Kallian replied holding up both hands and making them resemble cats paws, “ah, by the way, Leli, you should help Alistair compose a song about killing a High Dragon.”

“Why?” Leliana asked.

“To impress Elissa,” Kallian replied.

“Kalli, have I ever told you that you’re my favoritest sister?” Alistair replied, “who needs Goldanna when I’ve got you.”

“D’awww, I love you too,” Kallian cooed.

“Am I your favoritest brother?” Alistair asked.

“Nope, sorry, my cousin’s got you way beat,” Kallian replied, “again.”

“The one who yelled at you for not being able to save your Aunt and Uncle?” Alistair asked.

“That’s the one,” Kallian snapped her fingers into a thumbs up.

“Kallian, why are your shirts so heavy?” Wynne asked.

“Ahhhhh, because of the tricks I hide up there,” Kallian explained walking over to take the shirt Wynne was holding and turning it inside out, the insides of her sleeves were lined with pockets, “I reinforced the insides of my sleeves… before I got attacked, I only had a weapon pocket in the left one, but after I got attacked I decided to put another pocket in the right one… and had to reinforce the inside to make sure that the blade didn’t cut through my sleeve… The other pockets I use to carry miscellany.”

“Why do you need to carry weapons in your sleeves?” Wynne asked.

“I am an Elf, I can’t be seen carrying weapons out in the open,” Kallian answered, “…also it gives me the element of surprise. They look at me and think I’m defenseless, and find out that I’m anything but far too late.”

***

Upon reaching Redcliffe Village, they immediately set off for Castle Redcliffe, and she took in a deep breath and held it for ten seconds before letting it out.

“You return,” Teagan said, “might you have news?”

“How is Arl Eamon’s condition?” she asked.

“It’s still the same,” Elissa replied.

“We’ve tried more magical healing, but nothing works,” Teagan added, “as time passes, I become more and more convinced the Urn might be our only hope.”

“Well, we found the Urn,” she said taking the pouch from her sleeve.

“You have? Wonderful! Let us go to Eamon’s side and see if the Urn’s healing powers live up to their reputation!” Teagan said excitedly.

“Yep, let’s hope this supposed panacea does the trick,” she replied wearily eye-ing the pouch as they followed Teagan.

“You seem skeptical,” Elissa noted.

“Naturally,” she replied as she handed the pouch over to the mage healer, “I don’t believe in the existence of panaceas… So come on, Andraste, prove this heathen naysayer wrong.”

“You’re a heathen?” Elissa asked.

“Something along those lines, yeah,” she nodded watching the mage literally work his magic.

She had no idea how exactly the Ashes were supposed to be used, but the mage seemed to have an idea for it. The mage sprinkled the Ashes over Eamon, and there was a small glimmer of light, and Arl Eamon began to rouse from his coma.

How interesting.

“Wh—where am I?” Eamon asked in a daze.

“Be calm, Brother… You have been deathly ill for a very long time,” Teagan replied, “do you remember nothing?”

She was also once deathly ill for a long time, but she remembered all of it.

It sucked.

They had no reason to throw her into a medically induced coma, so she was stuck bored out of her mind in the hospital where needles got stuck into her and she grew sick of the smell of disinfectant. Grew depressed over seeing the mental and emotional strain her condition caused on those she loved, knowing that just being in the hospital was wracking up debt. She’d become a burden, and she’d hated it. So when she’d finally set off on what should have been her final journey, she was at peace.

“Arl Eamon, do you remember me?” Elissa asked.

“Teagan? Elissa Cousland? What are you doing here?” Eamon asked, “where is Isolde?”

“I am here, my husband,” Isolde replied.

“And Connor? Where is my boy?” Eamon asked, and her heart sank, the sin that coated her hands would never wash off, “where is our son?”

“He… he is dead,” Isolde replied softly, “Connor is dead.”

Her chest felt heavy, it was hard to breathe, and she wanted to run away.

A panic attack.

She was having a panic attack.

Luckily, because of the constant mess that her mental state was in, in her last life, she was quite adept at hiding them.

“Dead?” Eamon asked, “then… it was not a dream?”

“Much has happened since you fell ill, Brother,” Teagan said, “some of it will not be… easy for you to hear.”

“Then tell me,” Eamon said, “I wish to hear all of it.”

They were sent to wait in another room, as Isolde and Teagan, caught Eamon up to speed.

“Well, Ali-butt,” she mused, “I hope you’re ready to be put up for candidacy for the throne.”

“Well… you’ve been more or less preparing me for it,” Alistair replied, “by the way, I think we should tell you that we’re planning on making you the Teyrna of Gwaren.”

“I’m sorry,” she said holding up her hand, “you’re doing what now?”

“Making you the Teyrna of Gwaren,” Elissa repeated.

“If I’m going to get sucked into politics,” Alistair said, “I’m taking you with me.”

“I re—”

“You’re not allowed to decline,” Elissa said cutting her off.

“Are you trying to tell the Willful Cat how to live her life?” she asked dangerously.

“Your intimidation tactics won’t work on us,” Alistair said with a frown.

“I am an eighteen year old Elven woman,” she sighed, “and you want to make me a _noble?_ I was raised to _serve_ nobles, not _become_ one.”

“I think Kalli would make a fantastic noble,” Leliana chimed in, “she already has many qualities that would suit it.”

“I agree,” Wynne nodded.

“I’ll be sure to protect you from any assassination attempts, my dear Warden,” Zevran said brightly.

“Betrayal,” she replied with a weak voice, “who would have thought that I would be betrayed by those closest to me…”

“That won’t work either,” Elissa said and she clicked her tongue in annoyance.

“A real rags to riches story then, huh?” she sighed, “gross.”

It’s not like she had much to worry about, she had no plans on outliving the Blight, she’d be ending it with her life.

“She’s been preparing you for candidacy for the throne?” Elissa asked.

“Kind of,” she answered, “really, it was just him asking me to teach him how to be a leader, and then me trying to turn him into a philosopher.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever become as much of a philosopher as you, though,” Alistair replied.

“Naturally,” she replied, “you’re talking to the one and only Philosocat.”

“Oh, that’s a cute title!” Leliana said clapping her hands, “I’ll title the journal we’re compiling of your words of wisdom as ‘The Philosocat’s Words of Wisdom’.”

“If you sell it I want all proceeds to go to the reconstruction of Ferelden,” she said snapping her fingers into a thumbs up.

“See, you’re not even a noble yet, and you’re already thinking like one,” Elissa said, and she scowled.

When Arl Eamon called them in, she explained what happened at Ostagar, and her talk with Elric. Making sure to keep her explanations short and concise, while also making sure to speak clearly and to calmly and correctly articulate every word. Afterward, Wynne described the events that transpired at Kinloch Hold.

“This is most troubling… there is much to be done, that is true… But I should first be thankful to those who have done so much,” Eamon sighed, “Kallian, I know you did what you had to. I grieve for my son, but I believe that had you not acted as you did, it might have been far worse… I am in your debt. Will you permit me to offer you a reward for your service?”

“I… No, I shouldn’t be rewarded for that kind of thing,” she shook her head, “your aid against the Blight will do.”

“You acted with my son’s best interests at heart… I also don’t think he would have been able to live a happy life in the long run,” Eamon replied, “so I still feel you are worthy of a reward, I would like to honor your efforts, nothing more.”

“As you wish,” she replied with a bow.

“Then allow me to declare you and those traveling with you Champions of Redcliffe. You will always be a welcome guest within these halls,” Eamon replied, “and for you, Kallian, a shield of the same make as those that have been given to our finest knights.”

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said accepting the shield.

She thought she was getting used to this kind of thing, but she was wrong.

It was still weird.

“We should speak of Loghain, Brother,” Teagan said speaking up, “there is no telling what he will do once he learns of your recovery.”

“Loghain instigates a civil war even though the Darkspawn are on our very doorstep… Long I have known him. He is a sensible man, one who never desired power.”

“I was there when he announced he was taking control of the throne, Eamon,” Teagan replied, “he is mad with ambition, I tell you.”

“Mad indeed, mad enough to kill Cailan, to attempt to kill myself and destroy my lands,” Eamon replied, “whatever happened to him, Loghain must be stopped. What’s more, we can scarce afford to fight this war to its bitter end.”

“I disagree,” she said speaking up, “I don’t think Loghain is mad with ambition at all.”

“What?!” Alistair stared at her in shock.

“He’s being haunted by the ghosts of his past, he remembers the Orlesian occupation, and was not able to move past it,” she explained, “likely, when Cailan sought out the Orlesian's for aid against the Blight, all he could think was that they intended to reconquer Ferelden… Anger, hatred, and paranoia are a dangerous mix, and he is at the mercy of them both. It’s clouded his judgment and is causing him to destroy that which he fought to save… Not only that, but I don’t think he’s aware that this is a true Blight.”

“This shouldn’t surprise me,” Alistair sighed, “considering your entire personality.”

“In any case,” she said, “what do you propose our course of action be?”

“We have no time to wage a campaign against him,” Eamon replied, “someone must surrender if Ferelden is to have any chance at fighting the Darkspawn.”

“Loghain must capitulate, then,” she nodded.

“I agree, Loghain will pay for his heinous crimes, but our armies must be reserved for the Darkspawn, not for each other,” Eamon said, “I will spread word of Loghain’s treachery, both here and against the King. But it will be but a claim made without proof. Those claims will give Loghain’s allies pause, but we must combine it with a challenge that Loghain cannot ignore. We need someone with a stronger claim to the throne than Loghain’s daughter, the Queen.”

“Are you referring to Alistair, Brother?” Teagan asked in shock, “are you certain?”

“I would not propose such a thing if we had an alternative,” Eamon replied, “but the unthinkable has occurred.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” she nodded.

“Teagan and I have a claim through marriage, but we would seem opportunists, no better than Loghain,” Eamon nodded, “Alistair’s claim is by blood.”

“I knew this was coming,” Alistair sighed, “or rather, Kallian knew this was coming.”

“Did she, now?” Eamon asked in surprise.

“Kallian’s powers of perception are a force to be reckoned with,” Alistair nodded, “though, I’ve recently learned the secret behind them.”

“What’s her secret?” Elissa asked.

“Compassion,” she answered.

“I suppose that shouldn’t surprise me, considering that you were the one who’d seen through and immediately counteracted Loghain,” Eamon nodded, “you are clearly intelligent, skilled, articulate, observant, calm, polite, and level-headed… you’ve been a powerful ally thus far, and will continue to be one.”

“Keep in mind that powerful allies can become powerful enemies,” she pointed out.

“What?!” Alistair asked in alarm.

“Not saying I’ll become one,” she waved a sleeve around, “however, I am of the belief that people should always know the dangers associated with things… Ignorance will always be the true enemy.”

“…That’s right, that’s the kind of person you are,” Alistair sighed, “you had me worried for a second there.”

“I have to stay true to myself,” she replied with a shrug, “my values have, and will, never change.”

“Then I see only one way to proceed: I will call for a Landsmeet, a gathering of all of Ferelden’s nobility in the city of Denerim,” Eamon nodded, “there, Ferelden can decide who shall rule, one way or another… Then the business of fighting our true foe can begin. What say you to that, my friend? I do not wish to proceed without your blessing.”

She almost blurted out a question asking why her blessing was necessary, but managed to hold herself back.

“I say we proceed with your plan,” she nodded.

“Very well, I will send out the word,” Eamon nodded, “and with your permission, Lady Elissa, I would also like to spread the word on Arl Howe and his crimes against your family.”

“I believe that would be for the best, yes,” Elissa nodded.

“Before we proceed, however, there is still the matter of the mage… my son’s tutor,” Eamon said, “he still lives, I understand.”

“He does,” Teagan replied, “he is in the dungeon, Brother.”

“Have him brought here, Teagan,” Eamon replied, “I wish to see him.”

Teagan nodded and Jowan was brought forth from the dungeon.

“Jowan, what you have done is not in question. You tried to assassinate me and set into motion a series of events that nearly destroyed everything I cherish,” Eamon declared, “what have you to say in your own defense?”

“Nothing, My Lord… other than to say I am sorry,” Jowan replied, “I expect no mercy for what I have done.”

“I see,” Eamon replied, “Kallian, have you anything to say on Jowan’s behalf.”

“He seems earnest in his desire to repent,” she said honestly.

“Oh? That is… unexpected,” Eamon replied, “and what would you have me do? As the injured party, my ability to see the merciful path is… strained.”

“Loghain said that he’d settle matter with the Circle for him,” she replied, “might as well give him to the Circle.”

“True enough, and wisely said,” Eamon replied, “Jowan, I hereby turn you over to the tower of the Circle of Magi. May the Maker have mercy on your soul.”

“Thank you, My Lord,” Jowan replied.

“Now, back to the matter of the Landsmeet,” Eamon said, “it will take some time to recall my forces and organize our allies. I would prefer to wait until that is done before calling the Landsmeet.”

“I would as well,” Elissa nodded, “it’s about time Ferelden learn I yet live… and the Cousland’s have allies that will never stand for Loghain after learning what Arl Howe has done to my family.”

“In the meantime, I suggest you pursue the remainder of the Grey Warden treaties,” Eamon replied, “we will need all the allies we can get if we are to defeat the Darkspawn horde.”

“Understood,” she nodded, “if you have need, I will be staying at the tavern in the village for a few days.”

“Are you sure you do not wish to stay in the castle?” Eamon asked.

“Quite,” she nodded, “till next we meet.”

She meandered her way back to Bella’s Tavern, where she’d ditched all of her stuff. Since they were at a village again, she’d like to get her washing done.

Slipping off her shoes, she pet Diana with her feet under the table closing her eyes in thought.

Now that she finally had time to stop and breathe, perhaps she was being unfair. Speaking as if she had a future to live out after the Blight was over… but she needed to speak like this, to act like this…

No matter how much they wanted to know, she would never tell anyone of her pain. Her suffering, her anguish… 

It wasn’t her story to tell.

Bella placed a tankard of ale down in front of her.

“For our returning hero who cured our Arl,” Bella winked.

“Thank you,” she grinned.

Hero, huh? 

She’s never been a hero.

If Shianni were here, she’d surely fall out of her chair laughing.

“I wonder how bitch-tits is doing…” she muttered drinking the ale Bella had given her.

It was pretty awesome that there wasn’t a drinking age here, and that she could drink all the booze her money could buy.

“Bitch-tits?” Leliana asked.

“Ah, oops, I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” she said covering her mouth with her hand, “my cousin, Shianni, she called me a dumb cat, and I called her bitch-tits.”

“Why bitch-tits?” Alistair asked.

“Her breasts grew in before mine did, and she constantly made fun of me for it,” she explained as she got another tankard courtesy of Bella, “so I called her bitch-tits.”

“Is she the one who got married?” Wynne asked.

“No, that was Soris,” she waved a sleeve around, “we called him oldie.”

“Why oldie?” Alistair asked.

“He’s three years older than us,” she laughed as another tankard appeared before her, “though, I suppose I can’t call him oldie anymore, since I’m close to people who are older than him now… Ahhh to go back to simpler times…”

She slid the tankard that was placed before her over to Alistair, though, she had a high tolerance to alcohol. Booze is technically a poison that makes you feel good, so its effects fall under her Apothecaries Crux… She could probably drink Alistair under the table, because of it, but she wasn’t really into that idea.

“Getting tipsy, my dear Warden?” Zevran asked with a grin.

“Far from it,” she replied waving a sleeve around, “it’ll take a lot of booze to get me drunk.”

“Oh?” Zevran replied.

“Mmmhm,” she nodded, “alcohol and its effects fall under the Apothecaries Crux.”

“How exactly does one acquire the so-called 'Apothecaries Crux', my dear Warden?” Zevran asked.

“By using yourself as a test subject to better figure out medicines, poisons, reagents and their effects,” she answered, “I could ask someone what something does, however, the best way to know its qualities is to experience it for yourself.”

“You’re crazy,” Alistair said.

“I prefer the term ‘ambitious’,” she replied, “ultimately, it’s one of the reasons I stopped believing in the existence of panaceas.”

“I have never heard this term before, ‘panacea’,” Morrigan mused.

One of the reasons she was interested in medicines and healing, was because she’d died of an illness in her past life. Panaceas didn’t exist there, and she was sure there still would be no such thing here.

“A panacea is a cure-all medicine: something that can cure any and all diseases and illnesses,” she explained, “which Andraste’s Ashes did… ah, well, I was proven wrong in the best way possible, so this was still a valuable experience… I am quite satisfied with this outcome.”

“My Lady,” a servant from Castle Redcliffe said after finding them in the tavern, and the title made her skin crawl, “Lady Isolde will be holding a banquet to celebrate Arl Eamon’s recovery tomorrow night, and would like you and your companions to attend.”

“Of course,” she nodded, and the servant bid them farewell and left. She propped her chin up in her hands and turned a smile on Zevran, “so, tell us more about your adventures.”

“Again? Well, now… what might interest you, I wonder?” Zevran mused, “shall I describe the stages involved with lanthrax poisoning? I watched a man go through all seven, once.”

“Sounds neat,” she replied, “sure.”

“You have rather macabre tastes, I see,” Zevran chuckled, “I like that.”

“Well, I mean,” she shrugged, “I can also describe what happens when you lob a claw trap into someone's face.”

“Maker’s breath I wish I could forget that you did that,” Alistair groaned.

“I do as well,” Morrigan groaned.

“Why would you do that?” Sten asked.

“I don’t actually know,” she replied seriously.

“Such a curious woman you are, my dear Warden,” Zevran said, “let’s see… how about the largest battle I ever took part in? That would have been the slaughter of Prince Azrin. Did you hear of that down in these parts?”

“Probably, but I haven’t, our Elder didn’t tell us much about the world outside of the Alienage… He wanted to keep us from doing something stupid and winding up getting ourselves killed,” she shook her head, “but… you killed a prince?”

“Me? Not personally, but I did take part in the attack,” Zevran recounted, “Prince Azrin was fourth in line to the throne, you see. He started off as eleventh, but worked way up the old-fashioned method, by inheriting control of an entire Crow cell from his grandfather. And after assassinating his way through the royal family, the King hired three other cells to take down Prince Azrin once and for all. I was in one of those cells.”

“You can do that?” she tilted her head to the side, “I will _never_ understand the lives of nobles…”

“You’d better start understanding it,” Alistair said, “since you’re getting Gwaren.”

“Ew, gross,” she replied scrunching up her face, “is this sort of thing common in Antiva?”

“Antivan royalty is very much bound up in the Crows, you wouldn’t want it run by a bunch of commoners, after all, would you?” Zevran chuckled, “and this means they get involved in politics quite often. This particular fight nearly bankrupted the nation, I understand. It almost ended up putting a Crow on the throne, a commoner… but that’s a whole different story. I played a very small part.”

“See, you don’t want a country run by commoners, of which I am,” she said hitting Alistair who was sitting next to her before turning back to Zevran, “what did you do?”

“My part in the entire battle was taken up trying to reach Princess Ferenna, who had thrown in with her brother,” Zevran continued, “I killed about eleven of her guards personally before I got knocked out of a window.”

“Wooow, only eleven?” she accidentally blurted out and then covered her mouth.

There were far more guards in the Arl of Denerim’s estate than eleven. Not only that, but there were also Mabari… Soris was there, but he didn’t do much, his aim wasn’t all that great, and he lacked the resolve to actually maim and hurt people, so they fell to her, and her wrath and her fury. They fell to her anger, to her desperation, to her desire to protect those she loved. Her resolve never wavered, but Soris just didn’t have that kind of resolve.

“What do you mean, _only_ eleven?” Alistair asked in shock.

“Eh-heh… I’m just going to leave it as it’s classified information,” she replied sheepishly, “and what window did you fall out of? The first floor?”

“It was not… but I landed in the river and nearly drowned,” Zevran sighed, “I was fished out by some urchins who robbed me blind… Made off with my boots, too. At least they didn’t cut my throat… and that was my part in history.”

“You’re rather lucky,” she mused.

“It’s true, I live a charmed life. One of the prostitutes that raised me was a fortune teller,” Zevran chuckled, “she said I wouldn’t die young… She was rather startled by that.”

“Well, you’ll have had another part in history once this Blight’s over,” she replied, before trying to hold back her laughter, “as the assassin who failed to kill his mark and instead helped them end the Blight.”

“Still as cruel as the day I met you, I see,” Zevran sighed.

“Well, it’ll be a far more glorious part in history, so you have that going for you,” she replied, “you’ll get to brag to everyone about it.”

“You will as well, my dear Warden,” Zevran replied.

“That is very true,” she nodded.

_Those who know do not talk_  
_Those who talk do not know_  
_Close the mouth_  
_Shut the doors_  
_Blunt the sharpness_  
_Unravel the knots_  
_Dim the glare_  
_Mix the dust_  
_This is called Mystic Oneness._  
_They cannot obtain this and be closer_  
_They cannot obtain this and be distant_  
_They cannot obtain this and be benefited_  
_They cannot obtain this and be harmed_  
_They cannot obtain this and be valued_  
_They cannot obtain this and be degraded_  
_Therefore, they become honored by the world._

If she were to be completely honest, which she didn’t want to be…

She liked his… hands, and the way he handled and touched her with care when she allowed it.

She also liked his voice… and she hated her cliched reaction to hearing him call her name for the first time in a while. It shouldn’t have affected her, but it did.

And she liked his face… and all the different expressions he made.

This really shouldn’t be a surprise, she’s now known him for longer than she’d been aware of Nelaros’ existence… But she’ll continue to deny this, and she’ll never admit these feelings, not to anyone, and certainly not to herself. She’ll never say any of this out loud… the second you say something out loud and release it into the world was the second it gained more power. Her fate was sealed, and she still refused to drag him along her path…

Doing so would be selfish and irresponsible, and she’s damned enough people. 

She’ll continue to lock these words and feelings away, and pretend they don’t exist. In the long run, it’ll be better for the both of them.

She had her own room again and settled into a warm bath.

A hand on the ring around her neck.

Maybe she _was_ a loose woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Tao Te Ching Chapter Fifty-Seven_


	33. How the Golem Met the Cat

His Warden looked rather uncomfortable at the banquet Isolde had decided to hold in celebration of Arl Eamon’s recovery. Likely, she was still uncomfortable with being praised by the nobility for making a decision to kill their child. Or perhaps she was uncomfortable being praised by nobility in general.

And so she discreetly left early.

And of course he found her on a roof with a bottle of alcohol… her taste in alcohol was also something praiseworthy about her…

He wanted, but she was the only one who could provide. He thinks she wants too, but it could simply be wishful thinking… 

Though, if she truly minded, she would have said something. Or killed him, she’s shown herself quite capable of both, and he doubted she’d let him tease her like this if she truly minded. Especially considering her past accomplishments… leading enough men to their dooms in the back alleys of Denerim to draw interest from the Crows.

He sat down next to her on the roof, and she briefly glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

“You know,” Kallian said as he took the bottle from her to take a drink, “I think you need to start bringing your own booze if you’re going to keep joining me like this.”

“And miss the chance to share yours? I think not, my dear Warden,” he replied passing it back to her, “you do have astonishingly good taste, after all.”

“I’m sure you have good tastes in alcohol as well,” Kallian sighed before taking a drink.

“Well naturally,” he chuckled, “still, I prefer yours.”

“And yet you refuse to let me have any Antivan Brandy,” Kallian pointed out dryly, holding the bottle out from his reach, “what’s with this double standard bullshit, hm?”

This was true, she had to steal his brandy when he wasn’t looking.

“Fine,” he sighed, “I will share my brandy with you.”

“Oh-ho,” Kallian grinned, “is that so?”

“Yes,” he sighed again and Kallian passed the bottle to him with the most triumphant smirk on her face, “by the way, my dear Warden, I’m curious: were you ever cornered on your ‘merry chases’ through the back alleys?”

“Of course I was,” Kallian laughed taking the bottle back from him, “but people are naturally afraid of things that move unnaturally, if you move with disjointed movements, their instincts tell them that they need to get the fuck out of there… and if you add in a creepy laugh… never even saw them leave… Plus my ability to intimidate people is pretty great. Well, to kill a monster, you use a monster, nyaa.”

“If you are a monster, my dear Warden,” he said grasping a lock of hair and pressing his lips to it and Kallian immediately looked away, “you are the most beautiful monster I’ve seen.”

“Still think I’m a deadly sex goddess?” Kallian asked, “because I’m fairly certain I’m no sex goddess.”

“Well, we won’t know until we try, now will we?” he asked with a coquettish grin.

“I don’t know why it still surprises me to hear you say these things,” Kallian sighed, “but here we are, again.”

“But no, I suppose not,” he replied, “I suppose you are more of a sexy death goddess.”

“Kalli!” Alistair called from below, “where’d you go?!”

“I—” he cut her off when he decided to by-pass the bottle and grab her hand, though her other hand came up and blocked him, “I’m up here.”

“Come back inside,” Alistair said, “they wanna talk to you.”

“Gimme a minute,” Kallian replied.

He held her other hand where it was, and making sure to keep eye contact with her, pressed a kiss to her palm. The effect was immediate, she drew back from him, hissed like a cat, and ran, leaving him chuckling to himself. He wondered if she would always react to him like this, as much as amusing as he found it, he’d rather she didn’t flee from him. 

He enjoyed seeing all of her different facial expressions and watching her nimble fingers work, whether it be sewing, knitting, or lock-picking.

And he’ll never admit it, but he liked being the reason she laughed.

***

By the time she returned to Bella’s tavern, she was exhausted. Standing out while around Humans made her stay on high alert, unsure of when someone would yell at her for not knowing her place. Old habits die hard, and at this point, she was grateful, that the price to end the Blight would be her life… Imagining being an actual noble rather than just being thanked by them would be… gross.

_The five colors make one blind in the eyes._  
_The five sounds make one deaf in the ears._  
_The five flavors make one tasteless in the mouth._  
_Racing and hunting make one wild in the heart._  
_Goods that are difficult to acquire make one cause damage._  
_So, as the sage attends to the inner world, not the outer world,_  
_Throw away the latter and adopt the former._

She took a bath and then began writing her confusion about life into a letter she then burned before face-planting her bed.

This should be enough of a break to get them off her back, so tomorrow, she’ll do her laundry and then they’ll leave the day after. They had much to do, golem, Flemeth for Morrigan, Ostagar, a return to Denerim for sword, Brecilian Forest, Soldier’s Peak, Orzammar…

This shit was stressful and confusing.

She remembered the feeling of his lips on her palm and felt her face burning again. She wasn’t sure why, but that felt more intimate than any of his other stolen kisses, and she didn’t like it.

Or at least that’s what she told herself.

There was a knock at her door, and she grumbled but got up to answer it, Elissa was on the other side with a very serious expression on her face, so she let her in.

“Kallian,” Elissa said seriously, “will we ever have to worry about having to deal with you?”

“…Are you asking me if I’ll turn into someone like Loghain?”

“Yes.”

“The future holds no certainties. However, while there is a chance I could, I assure you: you won’t be the ones who have to deal with it.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“The day I lose control of my sanity as Loghain has, is the day I end myself… Power without control is dangerous, and a beast who no longer knows between right and wrong needs to be put down… Even if it is by her own hand. I would not make you do that to me, I would not make you be the ones who have to end me. I’m self-aware enough that I’ll be able to catch myself in time… I know I’m dangerous, and I know what I’m capable of. When it truly comes down to it, Loghain and I are fundamentally different people: I am a philosopher and healer turned soldier, Loghain was a farmer turned soldier.”

“…I see,” Elissa sighed.

“I applaud you for seeking me out to ask me though,” she said brightly, “people should always be aware of the dangers and risks involved with things, especially when it’s attributed to things with power.”

“You… wanted someone to seek you out?”

“Naturally, if there comes a time when I’m an endangerment to the general populace and at risk of destroying everything I love, and I haven't ended myself, I’d like for there to be someone willing to stop me. No matter how hard it is for them to do so.”

After bidding Elissa goodnight, she plopped back down on her bed, a hand on her chin in thought. She was able to figure out how to end the Blight, on her own, but she was forced to in order to actually end it… But how widespread was this knowledge? How many people knew how to end the Blight? Probably not many, considering how stingy the Wardens were with their dumb secrets. Even _Alistair_ wasn’t told much about them and he’d been with them for six months. Chances were, maybe point one percent of the populace not associated with the Wardens knew. If that, really. They didn’t tell anyone about the Joining, about how they _know_ a Blight is a Blight… 

Why was she in such a stupid organization? Oh, right, she fucked up.

A dream of the Archdemon was preferable to any other dream, and that was what she got last night. With a yawn, she planted her face into one of the tables in Bella’s tavern. She’ll give Diana a bath soon, but first, laundry, and then… she should probably do weapon upkeep. It would be so much easier to let this shitty world full of bullshit just end, but she didn’t want to damn the good people of this world as well.

“Did you dream of the Archdemon last night too?” Alistair asked with a yawn.

“Yeah, it was great,” she replied.

“It was— what part of it was great?!” Alistair stared at her.

“All of it.”

“Kalli… what do you usually dream of?” Leliana asked.

“Just old scars, nothing more, nothing less,” she answered, “in any case, I think we should hit the road again tomorrow morning. We’ve got things to accomplish, I think Honnleath should be our next destination… after that, we can head in the direction of Flemeth and Ostagar, after that, I’d like to go back to Denerim to have some things made, and then we can head to the Brecilian Forest after I place my orders.”

“What do you want made?” Elissa asked.

“Some weapons,” she answered, “I’d like to get a pair of new sleeve daggers, among other things.”

“Wait a minute… weren’t you talking about getting me a sword made and naming it ‘Excalibur’?” Alistair frowned, “…was that the real reason we killed the dragon?”

All she did was make a face that said ‘Whoops, you caught me!’

“Kalli…” Alistair sighed.

“Well, the dragon steak and stews were delicious,” she waved a sleeve around, “not only that, but we harvested a lot of its bones and hide… and the Archdemon _is_ a large dragon. So, wanting to test our might against a High Dragon first was still a valuable experience… I wouldn’t have just killed it for that reason, I thought up other reasons on why it would be a good idea to kill it. I’m not irresponsible. If I want to do something, I come up with a list of pros and cons and make my decisions from that… Though most times, I can just attribute it to the fact that not doing it would be an insult to the person I am… But those are decisions based on my moral values and viewpoints. Geez, Ali-butt, we’ve known each other for how long and you think I’d needlessly endanger us for no reason?”

“No…” Alistair sighed, “you’re right, you do think things through like that…”

“Hmph, I’m insulted that you think I would frivolously decide on things, and waste everyone’s time,” she scoffed, “that you would think such of me…”

“I’m sorry,” Alistair sighed again as her finger pushed into his cheek hard enough to turn his head to the side, “ow, my neck, please stop.”

“It’s fine, like I always say, the first step in correcting something is through understanding,” she replied withdrawing her hand before standing up to leave, “I’m gonna go get my wash done.”

Come to think of it… She wondered if anything happened to their bodies after eating the dragon, at the time, she hadn’t really considered it. All she wanted was to make sure none of it went to waste. She didn’t want to just leave the meat like that.

Ah, well, if there was, it was probably inconsequential.

***

Fish Chowder…

His Warden was borrowing the kitchen in Bella’s tavern to cook fish chowder. He was being overwhelmed with a great many emotions that he wasn’t sure what were. Perhaps this is why she sometimes said _‘I am feeling feelings, and I’m not quite sure what they are yet.’._ What was this warmth bubbling up in his chest?

“Hm?” Kallian hummed noticing him staring at her as she tasted it, “you asked for a bowl of fish chowder, didn’t you?”

“This is true,” he replied smoothly, “though I did not expect you to cook it yourself.”

“Well, it’s been a while since I’ve last made chowder of any sort,” Kallian replied, “help me taste it?”

He took a taste from the offered spoon.

It was delicious, easily one of the best chowders he’d ever eaten.

“Good?” Kallian asked tilting her head to the side.

“Very,” he replied feeling oddly domestic.

“I’m glad,” Kallian replied with a grin and he couldn’t resist the urge to steal a kiss from her.

He swiftly retreated when a steaming hot ladle was swung in his direction.

Truly, he wished to do far more than simply steal kisses from her, but he didn’t want to force her into anything. There was also the fact that he’d explicitly told her that he was willing to wait, no matter how long it took.

“Think of it Zevran,” Morrigan said after he was kicked out of the kitchen, “you may have stumbled into a most delightful possibility for your future.”

“Oh? Are you dispensing professional advice now?” he asked.

“It simply occurs to me that if, say, Alistair, were to become King of Ferelden,” Morrigan said, “he may have need of someone of your… talents.”

“From what I know of the fellow it seems there would be a fair difference between what he needed,” he pointed out, “and what he cared to make use of.”

“If Alistair becomes king, it would certainly not be through any brilliance on his part,” Morrigan replied, “whoever puts him there… Now there’s the one who will need you.”

“His fellow Warden would be the one who puts them there,” he sighed, “and not only is she far more dangerous than I am, she clearly does not need protection.”

“But if he makes her the Teyrna of Gwaren, like he’s been saying,” Morrigan stated, “she won’t be able to be used as an assassin.”

“This is true,” he replied in thought.

He had no desire to leave her side, no matter what happened after the Blight. Though the end of the Blight was also, most likely, his deadline: he needed to persuade her to stray from her path of self-destruction by the time it ended. If he didn’t, then he would lose her forever, something he refused to do. But there were still things he didn’t know, he didn’t know enough to make even the slightest bit of headway. Not only that, but she was a stubborn woman, one whose vault of secrets seemed endless.

He would not lose her like he lost Rinna. 

He would stop her, or die trying.

Which honestly seemed far more likely.

***

The conversation she had with Kallian last night replayed itself in her head. If she ever wandered down the same path Loghain did, she wanted someone to stop her, even if it meant killing her. She knew she was dangerous, and she knew what she was capable of, and refused to go the route of Loghain. It was probably one of the reasons she agreed to teach Alistair, so that he could recognize the signs of her spiraling out of control, and stop her if he needed to. That was just the kind of person Kallian was, someone who would rather die than harm those she loved and cared for.

She’ll keep this information from Alistair for the time being, it would take a lot to get Kallian to that point. She didn’t have the paranoia and hatred that Loghain did, and Kallian was kindness, compassion, and love…

As much as she didn’t want to, she’ll have to keep an eye on her.

Kallian’s existence could be considered as something akin to that of the ultimate trump card. A bit of a wild trump card, but a trump card none-the-less.

She’d make a devastatingly dangerous enemy.

But she’d also rather die than become that.

“Heyyyy, Elissa, Ali-butt,” Kallian said over dinner mirth clear in her voice and a coquettish grin on her face, “I don’t know when we’ll be in Redcliffe next, so you should spend some quality time together. Since we’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Qua— KALLI!” Alistair practically shouted, his face red.

“Maker’s breath, Kalli,” she groaned hiding her face in her hands.

“Ahahaha,” Kallian laughed, “teasing you two is so much fun.”

“You shouldn’t tease them too much,” Wynne chastised.

“But they’re so cute,” Kallian cooed, “look at those bright red faces…”

“Zevran do something!” Alistair said.

“…What weird reality have we stepped into, where you’re asking _Zealously Zesty Zevran_ to do something about me?” Kallian asked staring at him in shock, “is this real life? Am I going crazy? What is happening? Have I hit my head?”

“I find myself wondering much the same,” Zevran replied in similar shock.

“What is even the proper response to this?” Kallian asked, “I don’t even… what?”

“This fish chowder sure is delicious!” she said to forcefully change the subject.

“I’m glad you think so,” Kallian said obliging the subject change, “I was worried… It’s been forever and a day since I last made a chowder dish.”

“Wait… are we having fish chowder because Zevran asked for it?” Alistair asked.

“I take requests, if you want it, I’ll make it,” Kallian stated, “otherwise, I just cook what _I_ feel like eating… So I don’t spend three hours trying to decide what to make for dinner.”

“I would like to try a proper lamb and pea stew, please,” Leliana requested, “not the… grey mush Alistair once made.”

“Sure,” Kallian replied snapping her fingers into a thumbs up.

***

They set off again, heading to the village of Honnleath first so that Kallian could assign the golem to guard Morrigan while they took care of things around Ostagar. According to Kallian’s estimates, it should take them a few days to reach Honnleath, and then a few more to get to Ostagar, weather permitting. Though, she also offered to head to Honnleath to get the golem on her own and meet them at the Korcari Wilds. Which was an offer that was unanimously rejected.

He still didn’t know how to feel about going to kill Flemeth.

Then again, the whole body snatching thing was kind of creepy.

“So, I have a question for you, Zevran,” he decided to ask, “you’re here, at least in part, to get away from the Crows, right?”

“That is indeed true,” Zevran replied.

“So when this is over, what do you intend to do with yourself?” he asked, “you can’t go back to Antiva, I assume.”

“What I do depends in large part upon your fellow Grey Warden,” Zevran replied, “I am not a free man, as it were.”

“We talked about this,” Kallian chimed, “you are.”

“Yes, yes,” he said ignoring his fellow Warden, “but what if you could do whatever you wanted?”

“He can,” Kallian said.

“Why should I go anywhere?” Zevran asked in return, also deciding to ignore Kallian, “you Grey Wardens are the epitome of charm and hospitality.”

“So you do intend to go back to the Crows?” he asked.

“I said no such thing,” Zevran replied, “and aren’t you going to be King? Perhaps you have people you need killed?”

“I probably do, yes,” he replied.

“See? It’s that sort of thinking that makes me think I have a future in this fine country of yours,” Zevran replied.

“That’s assuming I would hire you,” he replied dryly, “and I have Kalli for that sort of thing.”

“I’m not an assassin,” Kallian said speaking up again.

“That’s the lovely thing about kings,” Zevran replied, still ignoring Kallian, “they make for good business, as the client or the target.”

“If you target me, you’re targeting Kalli,” he pointed out, “I hope you know.”

“I give up,” Kallian threw her arms up in frustration.

“Still, I think I should stay where I am,” Zevran replied, “Ferelden is a marvelous country.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” he asked.

“You’re not much of a patriot, are you?” Zevran frowned, “well, I’m not going to listen to such slander of my new home… Off with you, then.”

“You could have him train recruits and such,” Kallian said speaking up again.

“Oh! You’re right!” he said brightly.

“You are so smart, my dear Warden,” Zevran said sidling up next to her.

“Oh, so _now_ you’re acknowledging my existence?!” Kallian glowered hitting Zevran with her book and then hurling it straight at his face.

“Hey! You’ve had selective hearing before, too!” he argued catching the book causing Kallian to stand up and kick him.

“Shut up, you butt!” Kallian said kicking his foot.

“Is that the best you can come up with?” he teased.

“Okay, shut up you ignorant troglodyte,” Kallian replied with a dead expression, “if you want me to be more eloquent when telling you off, that is a thing I can do.”

“Well… that escalated quickly,” he sighed, “and no, I’m fine with how things are.”

***

She could feel the spirit within her weakening a little, as she called it forth to help, and keep her comrades from death. She could also tell that Kallian was keeping a worried eye on her, she wouldn’t let her push herself too hard, she was sure of that, and it wasn’t because of her condition. It was because that was simply the kind of person she was.

“Wynne?” Alistair said.

“Yes, Alistair?” she asked.

“My shirt has a hole in it,” Alistair replied.

“I see,” she sighed, “and?”

“Can you mend it?” Alistair asked.

“Can’t you mend your own clothes?” she sighed again, “why do I have to do it?”

“Sometimes I pick up too much fabric, and it ends up all puckered and the entire garment hangs wrong afterward,” Alistair answered, “and you’re… you know, grandmotherly. Grandmothers do that sort of thing, don’t they? Darning socks and whatnot? You don’t want me to have to fight Darkspawn in a shirt with a hole, do you? It might get bigger. I might catch a cold.”

“Can’t you ask Kallian to mend it for you?” she asked, “she seems to be far better with a needle and thread than I am.”

“I did, but she gave me this really scary look,” Alistair admitted.

There weren’t many people who could stand up against Kallian’s intimidation. She’s clearly long since mastered the skill, and the amount of fear she could invoke in others was astonishing, considering the fact that she was a tiny, eighteen-year-old Elven woman.

“Oh, alright,” she sighed giving in, “I’ll mend your shirt.”

“Oooh! And while you’re at it,” Alistair said brightly, “the elbows kind of need patching too…”

“Careful, young man,” she chastised, “or puckered garments may be the least of your problems.”

“So you… mentioned you had a son?” Alistair asked, “what happened to him?”

“I honestly don’t know, Alistair,” she sighed, “he was… taken from me. Such births are seldom, as there are ways to prevent it, but it does happen. And any child born to a Circle mage belongs to the Chantry.”

“I… didn’t know,” Alistair replied sadly, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright… it was a long time ago,” she replied, “a very long time ago.”

“Couldn’t you do something about it?”

“Do what? I was weak from the birthing process and there were… no, there was nothing I could do.”

“Do you think about him?”

“All the time,” she replied sadly, before noticing both Morrigan and Kallian staring at her, “what? Do you have something to say?”

“Just… it’s wrong for people to take a child from their Mother,” Kallian said shooting Morrigan a glare that more or less said ‘don’t you dare’, “but then again thinking such is my _privilege_ since I’m not a mage. I’m not an involved party, I’m on the outside looking in.”

“You really are an idealist, aren’t you?” Morrigan sighed.

“Well, naturally,” Kallian replied waving a sleeve around, “ultimately, however, it all boils down to one thing: in order to change attitudes, you need to do it by education, not law.”

***

This journey has been an eye-opening experience.

She’d learned of the hardships Elves in cities faced, how they truly felt about Humans finding them pleasing to look at. How they lived in fear of being purged, and how unfair, unjust, and cruel they were truly treated. How persecuted they were, how they couldn’t even carry weapons or wear armor without worrying about getting killed. The challenges they faced… she would have never known exactly how hard their lives were if she hadn’t met Kallian.

And it wasn’t just the treatment of Elves, it was also the treatment of mages. The Right of Annulment was… she did not know such a thing existed. She didn’t know exactly how bad mages had it, until she’d seen it for herself, heard about it from Wynne. Her child was taken from her arms while she was weak from giving birth.

If she had stayed in the Chantry, she would have remained blissfully ignorant to the struggles of Elves and mages, and that was no way to live. She still loved the Chantry and the Maker, but she was beginning to truly understand Kallian’s stance on both of them. Of course, there're still things that she strongly disagreed with, but she was beginning to see where she was coming from. 

The Chantry she loved was different than the Chantry it truly was, and remaining ignorant of that was wrong.

***

“You must know that murder is wrong,” Wynne said looking at him, “I assume.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied, “are you speaking to me?”

“That is why you wish to leave your Crows,” Wynne replied, “a crisis of conscience.”

“Yes, that is exactly it,” he replied dryly.

“Joke if you wish,” Wynne said, “but I have a feeling that deep down, you regret the life you have lived.”

“It’s true,” he replied, “I regret it all.”

“Must you be such a child?” Wynne sighed, “are you incapable of a single, serious conversation?”

“I know, I am terrible and it makes me sad,” he replied, “may I rest my head on your bosom, my dear Warden? I wish to cry.”

His Warden uncrossed her legs and tugged him down so that his head was resting on her thighs.

“Make do with this,” Kallian said continuing to read her book as if it were nothing.

Soft.

Her thighs were soft.

They were as soft as he’d imagined they’d be, ever since he’d seen her in the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

He was about to get up when her free hand began absentmindedly running through his hair. Fingers gently carding through it, and he couldn’t help his eyes fluttering closed in pleasure. No one had gently ran their fingers through his hair before, no, it was always roughly pulled or yanked during sex. Her hand disappeared from his head to flip the page in her book before returning to gently comb through his hair.

***

Well, this was a conundrum.

She didn’t know when it happened, but apparently, Zevran had fallen asleep on her lap. Her eyes met Leliana’s and she pressed a finger to her lips, and she nodded and quietly retreated to her tent.

There was nothing she could do now, except continue to read her book and wait for the sleeping Elven assassin to wake up. Well, she could wake him up and tell him to get off, but he must have been tired, or something. It wasn’t the first time someones fallen asleep in her lap, so it was no big deal. Though, generally, the other person was Shianni, who was feeling sick for one reason or another.

Still, she didn’t expect him to actually fall asleep in her lap.

***

He didn’t know when it happened, but apparently he’d fallen asleep.

His Warden was still reading the same book, but she was significantly further along in it than he remembered.

“Oh? You’re awake now?” Kallian said looking down at him, “did you have a good cry?”

“Mmmm yes,” he replied getting up.

“Good to hear,” Kallian replied stretching, “I haven’t given someone a lap pillow in a while.”

He felt a tinge of annoyance as he wondered how many people she’s lent her lap to.

“How many people have you lent your lap to?” he asked.

“Oh? Jealous?” Kallian quirked a brow at him, “not many, maybe… two or three other people? The one I lent it to the most, however, was Shianni.”

Jealous? Was that what he felt? This tinge of annoyance? It was jealousy?

“Will you lend me your lap again?” he asked with a smooth grin.

“We’ll see,” Kallian replied standing up to return to her tent.

His Warden danced away from his attempt to stop her, which made him realize something:

When she truly did not want them to keep her from doing something, she easily dodged around their attempts to stop her. She’d danced around his attempts to stop her from talking to Ignacio, and from him and Leliana when they tried to stop her from going to the Gnawed Noble to meet him.

Did she realize she was allowing herself to be captured by him? He had a feeling she didn’t… Perhaps she did want but was denying herself because she didn’t want to drag him along with her.

He wondered if there would ever come a day where she simply allowed herself to be pampered and spoiled by him.

***

Survivors were running out of Honnleath with Darkspawn hot on their tails. She was ready since Felix had mentioned that the village was overtaken by Darkspawn. Once the Darkspawn were taken care of, she moved towards the statue in the middle of the village.

“‘Tis indeed a golem,” Morrigan said, “though ‘twould appear it is defunct.”

“It is damaged, perhaps beyond repair,” Wynne replied, “I am not sure if reactivating it would necessarily be wise.”

“I wonder how it ended up here, of all places,” Leliana mused.

“Frozen in the middle of a village does seem a bit weird,” Alistair nodded.

“Ahhh, poor thing,” she sighed, “at the mercy of birds…”

“Are you sure you wish to reactivate it, my dear Warden?” Zevran asked.

“Don’t worry,” she said snapping her fingers into a thumbs up, “I have a good feeling about this.”

“Wild animal instincts?” Alistair asked.

“Sure,” she replied taking out the control rod and holding it up, “uhhh… what was it again? Ah, right, _dulef gar_.”

And…

A whole lotta nothin’ happened.

She looked at the control rod and tilted her head to the side before remembering that Felix said that there might be some clue as to its revival in the village.

“I wonder if there are any other survivors,” she said, “we should probably check… Alistair, can you sense any Darkspawn nearby?”

“Through that door,” Alistair said pointing at a door, “wait, can’t you feel them too?”

“Yep, but your sensor is better than mine,” she replied, “also, it makes me feel gross so I tend to blatantly tune it out.”

“Please don’t,” Alistair sighed.

“But that’s what we have you here for,” she said brightly, “I’m fine with simply relying on my wild animal instincts. It covers a broader scope anyway.”

“You’ve just accepted that you’re a wild animal now, haven’t you?” Alistair asked.

“I recognized a losing battle, and simply accepted it,” she replied, “rawr.”

“That was the most erotic sounding ‘rawr’ I’ve ever heard in my entire life,” Leliana said.

“My cousin made me oddly self-conscious about my yawns,” she stated, “by saying that they sounded erotic… I asked her if she even knew what she was saying.”

“Did she?” Alistair asked.

“Yes, or at least she said she did,” she replied, “that was a weird day… it didn’t help that she was sick in bed, and I was sleepily trying to read her a bedtime story.”

“When was that?” Alistair asked as they entered the cellar.

“Two years ago,” she answered.

“Weren’t you both sixteen…?” Alistair asked.

“She was… I was still fifteen,” she replied, “I told you: it was a weird day.”

“Wait… are you actually the youngest out of the three?” Alistair asked.

“That is correct. Annie, are there any survivors?” she asked, “ah, there are. We should hurry.”

There was a pretty purple wall behind a group of Darkspawn, and behind the shiny purple wall were Humans. 

“By the Maker! We’re saved!” a Woman cheered.

“You… weren’t sent by the Bann, were you?” a Man asked, “to save us?”

“Greetings, my name is Kallian,” she said introducing herself, “and I don’t think anyone outside the village thought anyone here was still alive.”

“My name is Matthias, and I suppose I should be grateful that someone came at all, then,” Matthias replied, “thank you… but if you weren’t sent by someone, why are you here? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“A merchant told us about this place, actually,” she explained.

“A merchant? Why would a merchant— oh, I think I see,” Matthias sighed angrily, “this is about Shale, isn’t it? I should have known.”

Matthias did something and the purple pretty went away and changed into white-ish pretty, and he gestured for her to follow him.

She couldn’t help the excitement that bubbled up in her chest, she was _actually_ going to be allowed to touch one of the shiny walls.

After experimentally trailing her fingers along the wall, she walked through. Though, she could have spent all day like that.

“That damnable golem brought us nothing but trouble,” Matthias said angrily, “my Mother sold the rod years ago after it killed my Father, and good riddance.”

“Killed your Father?” she tilted her head to the side.

“My Father’s name was Wilhelm, mage to the Arls of Redcliffe and a hero in the war against Orlais, and what did he get?” Matthias explained, “one day my Mother found him outside the tower, with so many broken bones she could barely recognize him and Shale standing over him just like it is now. My Father deserved better than that. But if you really want to wake Shale up… well, it’s yours now.”

“But it doesn’t work,” she replied before looking around, “what is this place?”

“This was my Father’s laboratory, beneath his tower… or it was, anyhow,” Matthias replied, “look, I know you probably have more important things on your mind, but… I really need your help. I know you already saved my life, and I’m grateful, but my daughter, Amalia, is inside the laboratory. She was afraid and ran too far in before I could stop her. I don’t know how she made it past my Father’s defenses. One of the men tried to go after her, but he was killed… but you could find her, couldn’t you?”

“What killed the man who went after her?”

“There are defenses my Father put down here to keep strangers out… I knew about the barrier, I had the key for that, but the rest of it? We never came down here. Ever.”

“Alright, I’ll see if I can find her,” she said, “I can’t let a child stay like that.”

“You will? Thank the Maker!” Matthias said in relief, “my Father’s laboratory is just past the next area, I think. She has to be there!”

Ah, demons…

Wait… why are there demons here?

“Why are there demons here?” Alistair asked voicing her question.

“Whoa, I just thought the same thing,” she said.

On the other side of another shiny white wall was what was probably Matthias’s daughter… and a cat that was not a cat. She was sure of that.

“What do you mean you’ve never climbed a tree,” Amalia asked, “don’t cats like to be in trees?”

“Actually, we like high places in general,” she answered, “since it gives us a higher vantage point so that we can see potential prey, as well as potential threats before they can notice us.”

“Oh, look! Someone’s come to play!” Amalia said happily, “you _have_ come to play, haven’t you? We’re playing a guessing game, but it’s better with more people.”

“We?” she asked.

“Kitty and me, of course! You don’t see anyone else here, do you?” Amalia asked, “anyway, you should go if you’re not going to play. Kitty finds you distracting.”

“Amalia, we have to go,” she said a steadying hand on Diana, “your Father is worried sick.”

“I can’t go! Kitty says she can’t come, and I’m not leaving her,” Amalia replied, “she’d be lonely.”

“You are so kind, Amalia,” the Cat said, “I would miss you dearly if you left.”

“Yep, knew it,” she sighed, “Amalia, that’s not really a cat.”

“Of course she’s a cat!” Amalia replied, “she just talks, that’s all.”

“Talking is simple enough,” the Cat added, “once you know how.”

“No, cats don’t have the right kind of anatomical oral structure to be capable of Human speech, or at least, Human speech that easily understood,” she said, “in short: cats are incapable of naturally speaking like that. Therefore, get away from her, and return to your Father.”

“Nothing you say will convince Amalia to go with you,” the Cat replied, “she loves only me now. I am her friend, while you are just a stranger.”

“I see,” she sighed, “then what have you done to her?”

“I have done nothing, I am all but powerless. The mage made sure of that, didn’t he? I cannot leave this chamber. No, Amalia found me. After decades of isolation, her company is… welcome,” the Cat replied and Amalia sighed happily, “it seems we are at an impasse, so let me propose a… compromise of sorts. Release me, mortal, and let me have the girl. Let us return to her Father and leave this place forever.”

“Let you have the girl?” Leliana asked, “you mean possess her?”

“That’s _such_ a crude way of putting it,” the Cat scoffed, “I do not wish to harm Amalia, I merely want to see your world through her eyes. Is that wrong?”

“Well, when you have to hijack her body to do so, yeah. No one wants to be a prisoner in their own mind,” she answered and then made her decision with a sigh, “I’ll let you go, but you need to leave her.”

“Hmmm… but I do like this one,” the Cat replied.

“I like you too, Kitty!” Amalia replied.

“But… if it means escaping this prison, I am willing to leave on my own,” the Cat sighed, “I agree to your terms… The mage’s wards hold me within this chamber, and only a mortal may approach them… There is a trick to disarming the wards, but I do not know it. Perhaps you will succeed where the girl failed.”

“Oh, this is so exciting!” Amalia cheered, “Kitty is going to be free!”

“Are you sure about this?” Alistair asked as she went around disarming the wards.

“Don’t worry about it,” she replied waving a sleeve around, “it’ll work out… trust me.”

“Yes… I can feel the magic fading,” the Cat said, “oh… I had forgotten how it feels to not be caged.”

“Kitty?” Amalia asked, “what’s happening?”

“A wonderful thing, my dear,” the Cat answered, “for both of us.”

“We had a deal,” she pointed out while crossing her arms.

“I have changed my mind. I like the girl,” the Cat replied, “I do not think I will find another like her.”

“Oh! So I get to go with you after all?” Amalia asked.

“No,” she replied, “you will not have her.”

“Bah! I will take her anyhow!” the Cat glared, “she is mine!”

“Kitty, you’re scaring me!” Amalia cried out before running, “I won’t let you inside me! I won’t!”

“Checkmate,” she grinned as the Cat turned into a desire demon that glowered at her.

“Checkmate?” Alistair asked once the fighting was over.

“There was a chance that she’d take Amalia by force, and Amalia didn’t want to leave,” she explained as they walked back to Matthias, “if we made her leave by force, the demon would have still taken her by force. By disarming the wards I was leading her into a false sense of security, the only thing I needed, then was for Amalia to realize she was a threat, and run away on her own… the first step in addressing a crisis is always to take a breath and properly assess the situation, nya.”

There were more demons, where did they come from? Actually, why was a demon trapped in the cellar in the first place? She saw a journal, and curiosity bade her to read it. Wilhelm was… interrogating the demon? And running tests on Shale? She understood curious minds and such, but some things are best left alone.

“You did it! You freed her!” Matthias said, Amalia safe at his side, “thank you so much!”

“I’m sorry I ran away, Daddy!” Amalia cried, “I was so scared!”

“It’s alright, butterfly… You’re safe, now. All the bad creatures are gone,” Matthias replied, “you’ll need a phrase to activate Shale. It’s _‘dulen harn’_. I wouldn’t want the thing, but it’s obvious you can handle yourself just fine.”

“Thank you,” she replied.

She happily threw her previous musings on how some things are best left alone out the window.

“Now we should go, and quickly,” Matthias said, “thank you again. We owe you our lives.”

“Safe travels,” she replied waving to them.

She happily skipped out of the cellar, practically brimming with excitement, as she began humming a cheery tune.

“Kalli, didn’t you hea—” Alistair said but she cut him off.

 _“Dulen harn!”_ she said quickly before anyone had the chance to stop her while dodging away from attempts to take the control rod from her hands.

Everyone waited with bated breath to see what would happen, frozen from trying to stop her from waking the golem up. It took a few seconds but eventually, the golem began to move.

“I knew that the day would come when someone would find the control rod,” Shale sighed, “and not even a mage, this time. Probably stumbled across the rod by accident, I suppose. Typical.”

Sighed? Golems can sigh?

“Hello to you, too,” she replied.

“I stood here in this spot and watched the wretched little villagers scurry around me for, oh I have no idea how long,” Shale stated “many, many years.”

“And the villagers had no idea they were being watched?” Alistair asked, “creepy.”

“I was just beginning to get used to the quiet, too,” Shale sighed again, “tell me, are _all_ the villagers dead?”

“Not all of them, no,” she replied shaking her head.

“Some got away, then?” Shale replied, “how unfortunate.”

“You didn’t care for them, I take it?” she asked.

“Familiarity breeds contempt, as they say, and after thirty years as a captive audience, I was as familiar with these villagers as one could possibly be,” Shale replied, “not that I wished their fate on them, no, but it did make for a delightful change of pace.”

“Did you watch the attack?” she asked.

“Not as much as it would think. There was running and screaming… and then days and days of watching the Darkspawn prowl around,” Shale replied, “I would never have thought there could be something less interesting than the villagers, but there it was… Well, go on, then. Out with it. What is its command?”

“Eh? ‘It’? Are you calling me ‘it’?” she asked feeling a tinge of irritation and pointed at herself, “why are you calling me ‘it’?”

“Entrenched sense of perversity… the last one who held that damnable rod used to call me ‘golem’,” Shale replied, “‘golem, fetch me that chair.’ ‘Do be a good golem and squash that insipid bandit’ and let’s not forget ‘golem, pick me up. I tire of walking.’.”

“I see,” she sighed, “I’ll make an exception for you then, I suppose.”

“An exception?” Alistair asked.

“The first person to call me ‘it’ was brutally slaughtered,” she explained with a bright smile, “l.i.k.e.a.d.o.g.”

“It… does have the control rod, doesn’t it?” Shale asked looking at her with confusion, “I am awake, so it… must…”

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“I _see_ the control rod, yet I feel…” Shale trailed off, “go on, order me to do something.”

“Uhhh… Zevran wanted a bosom to cry on the other day,” she replied, “give him a hug.”

“Ahh… I don’t appreciate foreign objects invading my personal space, my dear Warden,” Zevran coughed, “well, usually.”

“And… nothing? I feel nothing,” Shale said in bewilderment, “I feel no compulsion to carry out its command. I suppose this means the rod is… broken?”

“Just as well, I’m not really comfortable with commanding people to do my bidding, anyway,” she replied, “so what now? You go on a killing spree?”

“Don’t be ridiculous… well, I wouldn’t mind killing the birds… those evil birds and their foul droppings! I could crush them all!” Shale glowered, “hmm… I suppose if I can’t be commanded, this means… I have free will, yes?”

“Yep,” she nodded.

“It is simply… what should I do? I have no memories, beyond watching this village for so long,” Shale replied, “I have no purpose… I find myself at a bit of a loss… What about it? It must have awoken me for some reason, no? What did it intend to do with me?”

“Well… I don’t intend to do anything with you now,” she replied, “but there are uses for personal golems…”

“May I ask what sorts of things it gets up to,” Shale asked, “for which I could be so potentially useful?”

“Well… killing Darkspawn,” she answered, “mostly.”

“The Darkspawn are an evil that must be destroyed, it’s true,” Shale replied, “though not as evil as the birds… damnable feathered fiends!”

“I can’t say I blame you for hating them,” she replied wryly.

“I suppose I have two options, do I not?” Shale asked, “go with it or… go elsewhere? I… do not even know what lies beyond this village.”

“What do _you_ want to do?” she asked.

“I watched this village for so long, unable to move or act… my memories of anything before are… vague at best,” Shale replied, “so I have no idea what I want to do. I am glad to be mobile… is that not enough?”

“Are… you certain you want to bring that thing with us?” Alistair asked, “it could be dangerous… and large.”

“Alistair… all of us are dangerous,” she pointed out dryly, “think of them as a personal battering ram.”

“Good point,” Alistair sighed, “and better it than me, anyhow.”

“I will follow it about then… for now,” Shale replied, “I am called Shale, by the way.”

“Ah, yes, Matthias called you that as well,” she said before giving a polite bow, “my name is Kallian, pleased to meet you.”

“This should be interesting,” Shale mused.

“There was a well back over there,” she said, “let’s go get you cleaned up, yeah?”

She found a sponge in one of the villager's houses and used it to scrub the bird crap off of Shale, dumping buckets of water over them as she went.

“By the way,” she said once she was satisfied, “what do you want to do with the control rod? Break it? Bury it so no one can find it?”

“Hmmmm… I’m not sure,” Shale replied, “if it breaks will I stop moving?”

“That’s what I was wondering,” she nodded, “so I didn’t want to do anything without your consent.”

“For now, I’ll let it hold on to it for me,” Shale replied.

“I can do that,” she nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Tao Te Ching Chapter Twelve_


	34. How the Cat Returned to the Ruined Ruins

She decided that they should stay in the abandoned village for the rest of the day, and then they could head out first thing tomorrow morning.

“I think I made a mistake in my estimates,” she hummed looking at her map.

“You made a mistake?” Alistair asked.

“Yeah, it’ll probably actually take us a week to get back to the Korcari Wilds,” she sighed, “and another day or two to get to Ostagar… And then we should probably head to Redcliffe after to drop off the documents.”

“I see it found some augmentation crystals!” Shale said almost excitedly as she was looking at them on the table, “I was not even aware it knew about them… well done!”

“They’re… the ones you, for lack of a better term, wear, right?” she asked, “I was looking at them when I was giving you a bath… may I?”

“Of course,” Shale replied and she began pressing the augmentation crystals into their arms, and then changed out the other ones because they looked better, “so? What does it think? They don’t make me look any wider, do they? I find I am already too wide as it is.”

“No, they’re quite slimming,” she replied stepping back to admire her handiwork.

“It must be the vertical pattern it put them in,” Shale replied, “did it know to do that? It must have… I think it should find some more as soon as possible. I want to glitter from ear to ear… so to speak!”

“By the way,” Alistair said, “have you figured out why Grey Wardens need to physically alter our bodies yet?”

“Nope,” she lied, “I have no clue… and with how stingy the Wardens are with their secrets… I’m not sure I’ll ever figure it out.”

“I guess we’ll just have to wait until we come across another Warden to figure it out, then,” Alistair sighed.

“That’s what it’s looking like,” she nodded with a sigh before turning to Sten, “come to think of it, back at Lake Calenhad, you mentioned something about your prisons for mages?”

“We have no mages such as you do,” Sten replied, “we have beasts in the shape of men, who perform tricks.”

“Fueh? You don’t have mages?” she asked in confusion, “why would you have a ‘prison’ for something you don’t have?”

“We have mages,” Sten answered, “we simply don’t have the sort you do.”

“Why do you have different mages…?” she asked still confused.

“For the same reason that we do not light our own houses on fire,” Sten replied, “or invite locusts into our fields,”

“Ahhh, magic’s not entirely evil, you know,” she replied wryly.

“‘As a fish stranded by the tide knows the air, or a drowning man knows the sea, so does a mage know magic.’.”

“I could say that knowledge isn’t as dangerous as ignorance, but I’d be lying something fierce… I know full well the danger of knowledge.”

“Knowledge is one-half of wisdom, but there are many things that can only be known too late… You see knowledge as dangerous?”

“Have you heard of this phrase before? ‘Knowledge is power’.”

“I have not.”

“What it means, is that even a weak force can overpower a stronger one… Hence why information will always be the most expensive commodity, why information brokers will always have a place in society, why the skilled are preferred over the unskilled. Those who know will always be sought out more than those who don’t. In all truths, everything we know and do stems from knowledge. Knowing how to do things, and by practicing it and increasing our skills in said field, we’re increasing our own accumulated knowledge. The only thing a person is born knowing how to do is to breathe. Everything else is taught. ‘I am hungry, how do I not be hungry anymore? Ah, if I cry, I will be fed, and being fed makes me not hungry.’.”

“Then I misspoke,” Sten replied, “they are not beasts. Beasts learn, eventually.”

“That’s hardly fair, Sten,” Wynne said.

“Life is fair?” she and Sten asked in unison.

“Still, I don’t think mages are as dangerous as you say…” she frowned.

“Clearly your Chantry agrees.”

“Oi, I’ve long since turned my back on the Chantry, so don’t call it mine.”

“And now you and your religion aren’t on speaking terms,” Sten pointed out.

“It’s a personal problem.”

“By the way,” Alistair asked, “why aren’t you on speaking terms with your religion?”

“That, is something between my religion and I,” she replied, “and as much as I love you, outsiders need to stay outside.”

“Truly, ‘tis almost as if Flemeth herself is traveling with us,” Morrigan groaned, “had I not known better, I would think that she had taken _your_ body and had no need for mine.”

“My people have a tale: an _ashkaari_ walked among the fields once, observing the laborers at work. Flax bloomed all around him, the color of still water. The air rippled like a curtain. As he stopped to examine a blossom, a bee stung him on the hand. The _ashkaari_ turned to a laborer for aid, and noticed for the first time the heavy gloves and coat she wore. As she tended to him, the _ashkaari_ asked them why she was dressed so in such stifling heat. ‘To avoid your fate,’ she replied. ‘But there are many thousands of bees here,’ the _ashkaari_ said to her, ‘and only one stung me. Surely your caution is unwarranted?’ ‘The stinger is always a surprise,’ agreed the laborer, ‘but so is the bee that simply passes one by.’.”

“I see… however, being too cautious can be detrimental in the long run, hence the phrase ‘nothing ventured, nothing gained’.”

***

Whatever happened to break his Warden, must have been what have shattered her trust in her religion. Was it connected with how she became a Warden? Or was it connected to her tattered and torn heart? Or were they both connected to each other? It must have all been connected to her deep intense feelings of self-hatred.

Currently, the object of his fascination was swinging her legs while sitting on the edge of a roof. He climbed on top of the roof to sit next to her, ever since he’d met her, he’d been increasing a great many of his skills. 

His ability to get to high places was one of them, considering her love of them.

“I’m not giving you another lap pillow,” Kallian said crossing her left leg over her right, “though, honestly, I was pretty surprised when you fell asleep… rather soundly, I might add.”

“Oh? Very well,” he replied deciding to ignore that last statement and instead giving her a coquettish grin, “there are other things I would much rather do to your thighs, though, they do not involve clothing.”

“You’re terrible,” Kallian sighed covering her face with her hands.

“Actually, I’m quite good,” he replied with a smooth grin.

“I have no doubts about that,” Kallian replied wryly, “I’m sure you’re quite skilled.”

“Now, why don’t you let me demonstrate some of my techniques, hm?”

“I’m not interested in watching you go about your business with another person. Or listening to it, really… that might be worse… it’s easier to not look at something than it is to not hear it.”

“Wouldn’t you like to experience it for yourself, my dear Warden?” he asked and despite already knowing her answer, he grasped a lock of her hair and pressed a kiss to it, “I assure you, you won’t be disappointed in any of the techniques I’ve picked up over the years.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to find you a prostitute or two the next time we’re in Denerim? I’m sure they’d all more than enjoy the techniques you’ve picked up over the years.”

“I’m sure they would as well, however, there is only one person I want to enjoy them.”

“Sounds like you’ll be waiting an entire lifetime, then.”

“I would gladly wait an entire lifetime or two if it meant being able to worship her as she deserved.”

“I’m sure she has her reasons,” Kallian said before leaving him on his own while muttering something under her breath as she did.

_“I’m sure… in another life… she would have loved that.”_

He wanted to ask her why that life couldn’t be this one, but she was gone before he could stop her.

And if he wasn’t careful, one day, he’d lose her forever.

Just like he’d lost Rinna.

He had time, the last Blight went on for twelve years… That should be more than enough time to unravel her secrets and convince her to stop seeking her own death.

***

_Favor and disgrace make one fearful_  
 _The greatest misfortune is the self_  
 _What does "favor and disgrace make one fearful" mean?_  
 _Favor is high; disgrace is low_  
 _Having it makes one fearful_  
 _Losing it makes one fearful_  
 _This is "favor and disgrace make one fearful"_  
 _What does "the greatest misfortune is the self" mean?_  
 _The reason I have great misfortune_  
 _Is that I have the self_  
 _If I have no self_  
 _What misfortune do I have?_  
 _So one who values the self as the world_  
 _Can be given the world_  
 _One who loves the self as the world_  
 _Can be entrusted with the world._

They were outside of the Korcari Wilds after a little less than a week of traveling, Morrigan having drawn her a map to help them navigate their way through the Wilds. She’d been having Alistair taking more of a leadership role, he needed to get practice in before he had to deal with running in a country. He needed more confidence in himself, especially considering that she had no plans to live past the Blight’s end. Ah, well, twelve years was more than enough time to get him to believe in himself, not only that, but she was sure Elissa would help him as much as she could. Still, she would prepare him as much as she could before she met her own end.

“So, Ali-butt, who should go back to Ostagar,” she asked, “and who should stay here?”

“Well, obviously, Morrigan’s staying, because swooping is bad,” Alistair replied, “and you and Wynne are going, so mayb—”

“So maybe Zevran, yes?” Zevran said.

“Kalli, what do you think?” Alistair asked with a sigh.

“Usually in situations like these, I recognize that arguing would be a waste of time and energy and just say okay,” she replied snapping her fingers into a thumbs up, “hence why he got taken into Castle Redcliffe and the Tower of Magi.”

“You… really hate things that are a waste of time and energy, don’t you?” Alistair asked.

“If it’s not fun, and I don’t have to do it,” she shrugged, “then why should I do it?”

“You’re probably the most free-spirited person I’ve ever met,” Alistair said.

“I inherited it from my Mother,” she replied waving a sleeve around, “in any case, we’ll be back in a few days, at most… try not to get yourselves killed.”

“I think that should be my line,” Morrigan mused, “remember: I need her true grimoire.”

“Of course,” she replied, “let’s see… main weapons, spare weapons, spare-spare weapon… throwing daggers… I’m ready, you guys?”

“‘Spare spare weapon’?” Alistair asked, “wait, not including your throwing daggers, how many weapons do you have on you?”

“Seven,” she answered, “sword, dagger, sleeve daggers, I have two needles in my hair, and then somethin’ else.”

“You have two _needles_ in your _hair_?” Alistair gawked.

“And a vial of poison!” she added brightly.

“What?!” Alistair stared at her in shock.

“Why do you think I have this hairstyle?” she asked, “buns make for great hiding places.”

“So where are the needles?” Zevran asked and she gently moved her hair ribbon to the side, “I see… you would make a fantastic assassin, my dear Warden… Perhaps you might be interested in going into… business with me?”

“Hey! She’s been claimed!” Alistair argued, “remember? Teyrna of Gwaren?”

“I think we should ask her what she wants,” Zevran replied, “so, my dear Warden, would you rather be an assassin, or a Teyrna?”

“Neither,” she replied already walking off, Diana already with her, “now, let’s go.”

“What would you like, then?” Wynne asked, “once the Blight is over.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she replied with a sigh, “not a Warden, that’s for sure.”

“A Teyrna can’t be a Warden anymore,” Alistair said.

“Uggghhhhh… gross,” she cringed, “I would like a normal life, please.”

They began making their way through the Korcari Wilds, towards Flemeth’s hut.

“Still with the stern glances, Alistair?” Zevran sighed.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Alistair replied, “about why the Crows wouldn’t send their best man.”

“So for that, I must suffer all these fearsome glares?” Zevran asked, “you are cruel to subject me to such torture.”

“If you aren’t telling me,” Alistair replied, “there must be a reason.”

“If you must know, the masters do not often take contracts outside of Antiva,” Zevran replied, “and I made the best bid.”

“Best bid?” she and Alistair asked in unison.

“We agree to pay the guild a portion of whatever the contract offers,” Zevran replied, “the one who agrees to pay the most gets the contract, so long as the guild deems them worthy.”

“Oh! Like a commission fee!” she said clapping her hands together, “I see, I see.”

“And they thought you were worthy?” Alistair asked.

“Against a pair of Grey Warden recruits?” Zevran replied, “apparently so.”

“Were there many who wanted the contract?” Alistair asked.

“None, you are still Grey Wardens, after all, and even in Antiva, killing members of your order is considered… impolitic,” Zevran answered, “it made the guilds decision considerably easier, I imagine.”

“I’m so glad I wasn’t recruited into the Crows,” she sighed, “sounds annoying.”

“And instead the Wardens got to you first,” Zevran mused.

“And they only got to me first because of my Mother,” she sighed again, “meanwhile, the cat simply wanted a nice nap in a crate, or on a nice roof.”

“What do you mean instead the Wardens got to her first?” Wynne asked.

“Just that if the Crows had learned of her talents they’d surely have looked to recruit her,” Zevran replied smoothly, “I’m sure they would have spent years trying to track her down.”

“True, I’m sure many organizations would have loved to have gotten to her first,” Wynne nodded.

“I know Elissa wished she’d gotten to her first,” Alistair remarked, “apparently she’d already had her eye on her too.”

“Yeah, that was a surprise to learn,” she sighed, “I didn’t know there were rumors about me… Actually, how were there rumors about me? My Father would _never_ brag about me, especially not around Humans… Ah… it must have been the other Elves.”

“Did we ever figure out what she used to do for the Pearl?” Alistair asked.

“No, no, I’m afraid not,” Zevran sighed still covering for her.

“How many secrets have we uncovered?” Alistair asked.

“Well, her sleeves,” Zevran answered, “and I believe we found out why she was recruited.”

“I feel like we uncover one of her secrets,” Alistair sighed, “only to learn the existence of a hundred others.”

“Why do you guys like talking about me as if I’m not here?” she asked.

***

Kallian, Alistair, Wynne, Diana, and Zevran left the rest of them behind to return to Ostagar, as well as slay Flemeth. She had no doubt that they’d be successful, and that Kallian would refuse any deal her Mother might offer her: Kallian didn’t deal in false promises, and she’d promised to help her. Which was another thing that made them similar, though, they had differences, and they weren’t slight differences. The differences they had were always so incredibly different from each other they were practically on opposite sides of the spectrum.

“I understand the Swamp Witch is out to slay its own Mother?” Shale mused.

“Entirely in self-defense,” she replied.

“So it claims,” Shale replied, “it could not have been its plan from the very beginning, then.”

“I knew nothing about my Mother’s… intentions… prior to finding the book,” she replied, “‘twas your notion I arranged that?”

“Unnecessary, considering it is the only one who can read the book,” Shale scoffed, “it could just as well be a journal, or a book of recipes.”

“Would you like me to teach you how to read the book?” she asked, “then you can see for yourself.

“Now it is teasing me,” Shale snorted.

“Well, do you care enough to learn?” she chuckled, “or no?”

“No,” Shale replied, “I do not care.”

“Then leave me be,” she replied.

“What does the Swamp Witch thinks the Grey Wardens chances are at success?” Shale asked.

“Were it just Alistair, very little,” she answered, “but with Kallian? Very high.”

“It thinks highly of the Superior Warden,” Shale mused.

“As do you, ‘twould seem,” she replied.

“It’s not hard to see that one Warden is superior to the other,” Shale scoffed.

“’Tis true,” she agreed, “I doubt you’ll find anyone who disagrees.”

***

After a few hours, they reached Flemeth’s hut… Hopefully, they’ll be able to return to the others by day's end. She wasn’t sure if she could get Wynne into the safety of a friendly tree at night, and Darkspawn were more active at night.

“And so the Traveler returns,” Flemeth said, “lovely Morrigan has, at last, found someone willing to dance to her tune. Such enchanting music she plays, wouldn’t you say?”

“Something like that, I suppose,” she replied with a sigh, “she knows how you extend your unnatural lifespan.”

“That she does,” Flemeth replied, “the question is: do you? Ahh, but it is an old, old story. One that Flemeth has heard before… and even told. Let us skip to the ending, shall we? Do you slay the old wretch as Morrigan bids? Or does the tale take a different turn?”

Ah, she’s been here before… Interesting.

“Well, unfortunately, I gave Morrigan my word,” she replied, “and I hate to be ungrateful for you having saved our lives, but I don’t deal in false promises.”

“It is a dance poor Flemeth knows well, let us see if she remembers the steps, then,” Flemeth replied moving away, “come… she will earn what she takes. I’d have it no other way.”

A dragon.

Flemeth turned into a dragon.

And not just any dragon.

A High Dragon.

Is this what fighting the Archdemon will be like?

Well, with the addition of maybe a few hundred Darkspawn.

“…I’m tired,” she sighed.

“How are you so calm?!” Alistair practically shouted after the fight.

“So loud…” she replied entering the hut to collect the grimoire, “also, it’s because this was so weird I didn’t know how to react, so in the end, I chose not to.”

“Why did she call you ‘Traveler’?” Wynne asked after she left the hut.

“That’s what I’ve been wanting to know ever since the first time we met her,” Alistair replied, “the Guardian of the Gauntlet called her that too.”

“How should I know?” she shrugged, “well, time to return to Ostagar.”

“Please don’t blatantly ignore your sensor,” Alistair said.

“I’ll try,” she sighed.

“So, Zevran,” Alistair said, “as a Crow, you were an assassin in Antiva, right? Professionally?”

“Technically speaking, I still am,” Zevran replied, “somewhat between jobs, as it turns out.”

“So, how much did you charge to… you know… kill someone?” Alistair asked, “was it very expensive? Did it depend on who they were?”

“Such curiosity… Are you thinking of having someone murdered, my friend Alistair?” Zevran asked, “or are you considering a career change?”

“He’d better not be considering a career change,” Wynne frowned.

“I thought he _was_ considering a career change,” she said, “from Warden to King?”

“No, neither, it just seems odd to me that you could make a living doing that,” Alistair replied ignoring them, “or that you would need an entire guild just to handle so many… jobs.”

“Ahhhh, assassination in Antiva is a tradition. It is more efficient than an election, as we say. ‘Politics and death go together like kisses and love-making’,” Zevran said, “it costs a great deal depending on how experienced the Crow is… and how difficult the target is to kill. You? I would charge perhaps five thousand andris for you.”

“Five thousand andris?” Alistair asked, “is that a lot?”

“Mmm, not really,” Zevran replied, “no.”

It was snowing at Ostagar, had it really been that long since they were last here? Wait, how long ago was the battle? She didn’t even know anymore.

“Ostagar,” Zevran said, “I’ve never been that ‘get between the armies’ kind of guy.”

“Neither have I,” she sighed.

“Something about returning here makes me feel old, Wynne,” Alistair sighed.

“And what exactly are you implying, Alistair?”

“What? …What?” Alistair panicked, “n—nothing! No, I just… thought…”

“You just thought I might be an expert at feeling old and could share some sage advice?” Wynne sighed.

“I… I just mean that I was a different person then,” Alistair replied, “I believed him, you know? That it would be a glorious battle, that we would win…”

“I did too,” Wynne sighed, “we were all a little bit younger the last time we were here.”

“Well, not you, you’ve always been old,” Alistair said, “and Kalli’s always been young.”

“With lip like that, _son_ ,” Wynne frowned, “you’ll be lucky to live to be _half_ my age.”

“Uwaaaaah,” she said, “it’s so cold it’s making me sleepy”

“Shall I warm you up, my dear Warden?” Zevran purred.

“Maybe later,” she stifled a yawn.

“What?!” Alistair said in shock, “is it… are you…?”

“Gonna drink booze?” she asked stifling another yawn, “I want his Antivan Brandy… alcohol really warms the body up…”

“That… wasn’t what I had in mind,” Zevran sighed, “I was thinking of something more… strenuous.”

“Oooooohhhhhhhh…” she replied before giving herself a sharp slap, “yep, okay, I’m awake now.”

“Why was your first thought alcohol?” Wynne asked.

“Because I’m more interested in good alcohol than sex,” she shrugged, “I’ve never had sex, but alcohol? Shit’s great. Tastes good, makes you feel good, it’s great. Especially since it can also be done admiring nature.”

“You’ve never—?!” Alistair gawked.

“You hadn’t either, until recently,” she replied, “ah, Darkspawn incoming.”

They fought their way to a place she recognized, this was where she’d met Ser Jory. Or at least she thinks this is.

“Oh… I think this is the guy I fed,” she frowned looking at the cage, his body was still there, “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, seeing as he was already in a cage…”

“You fed him?” Alistair asked.

“Mmm… he hadn’t eaten since they’d locked him up,” she sighed, “poor sod, didn’t stand a chance.”

They continued fighting through Darkspawn when they found King Cailan’s boots.

“What’s the matter, Alistair?” Wynne asked.

“I don’t know,” Alistair sighed, “it just feels wrong to find this here, pawed over by Darkspawn and thick with their rot… it was _his_.”

“I know, I feel it too,” Wynne sighed, “but he is not the first king to ever fall in battle, or even the first to fall to the Darkspawn.”

“Yes, but this wound cuts deeper,” Alistair replied.

“And it will bleed longer, but we must keep moving,” Wynne replied, “no doubt the Darkspawn are eager to give us plenty more reasons to mourn.”

“Loghain will get what’s coming, that’s for sure,” she replied before pointing, “that’s where we met, Ali-butt, you were being yelled at by a mage.”

“Oh, you’re right, it is,” Alistair replied.

“I thought you were gonna be a serious, uptight, square,” she said brightly, “I also gave you zero out of ten points in regards to giving comforting words… come to think of it, I also gave you zero out of ten points for pointing at the three bodies hanging in the tree… Ah, but I gave you five out of ten at one point… I forgot why though.”

“You were _grading_ me?!” Alistair gawked at her and she just beamed at him, “have you been grading everyone this whole time?!”

“No,” she replied shaking her head, “just those three times.”

She noticed something shiny glinting in the sun and went to investigate. She could never resist shiny things, she was practically like a bird in that regard, bending over to pick it up, she noticed it was the Joining Chalice.

“Bleeeeeerrgh,” she said making a face remembering the taste and texture, “I think I’m going to barf.”

“Why is everything about vomiting with you?” Alistair asked.

“It’s a natural response to gross, not only that but it’s the best way to expel poisonous things,” she answered handing him the chalice, “I think this is better in your hands, in case we need to make more Wardens… You know more about them than I do, I barely even remember the ritual words… Actually, that’s a lie, I don’t even remember them.”

“…” Alistair sighed taking the chalice from her and putting it in his pack.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” she frowned, “I was half asleep throughout the entire thing. I’d been traveling and fighting all day, and I wasn’t used to that, yet… I was far less accustomed to dealing with Humans, as well.”

“Sometimes, I wish your responses to things weren’t so indifferent,” Alistair sighed.

“One of us has to keep a level head,” she replied taking out the map Elric drew for her, “let’s see… it’s this way.”

“There’s a difference to keeping a level head,” Alistair replied, “and actually reacting to things.”

“Ah, look that’s where we met, Wynne,” she said pointing, “sorry, Zevran, but we didn’t meet until after Lothering… so I have no memories of you here… other than the ones we’re making now, I suppose.”

“I know,” Zevran sighed, “I know.”

“But I probably have more memories of you than anyone else we’re traveling with,” she said thoughtfully, “possibly… well, it would make sense, given how many times I tend to wander off.”

“That is very true,” Wynne commented, “you probably spend more time with her than anyone else.”

“You make it sound like there’s a legion of people vying for my attention,” she said dryly, “of which there are not.”

Somehow, it made her feel like an extremely pricey and highly valued _geisha_ , since she mostly told crappy _haiku_. If she were in Japan during that time period, she’d definitely be a _geisha_ and not an _yuujo_. She would prefer to sell her art, rather than her body. In fact, she’d probably be much better at selling her art rather than her body, giving men the illusion of romance with an untouchable flower. 

Though, she had a feeling that that was basically what she was doing with Zevran right now. Sharing booze, sometimes crappy poetry, innuendo, but both of them knew that nothing sexual would happen between them. She had a feeling that he knew her reasons for refusing his advances, so he likely knew better than to expect anything more.

She led them past where the Quartermaster had been, she saw his body, and frowned.

“What’s wrong, Kallian?” Wynne asked.

“It’s always a weird feeling seeing people who I’d interacted with before, dead,” she replied with a sigh, “like that prisoner before, and the Quartermaster… we should burn the bodies later. Oh, that’s right, my family already knows this, but when I die, please bury me with a tree sapling. Preferably a plum tree.”

“Why do you want to be buried with a sapling?” Alistair asked.

“So that I can live on in the tree. Plum blossoms are pretty and smell nice, and plums are tasty,” she replied before crouching down to sift through the rubble, “here it is.”

“Now we just have to find the royal arms chest,” Wynne replied.

“And Cailan’s tent is over there,” she nodded, “if I recall correctly.”

They must have really hated Duncan, his bonfire had been completely trashed. Honestly, she didn’t care that they hated Duncan, though, she was curious as to why they went _that_ far to destroy it. How did they know that that was where Duncan liked to loiter?

“This is… where Duncan kept his nightly watch,” Alistair sighed, “they probably still sensed something of his power… that’s why they went through such lengths to defile it.”

“And if we hadn’t survived, Loghain would go unpunished for his treachery,” she replied stooping down to unlock the royal arms chest, “let’s see… here, Alistair, take his sword… I think he’d have wanted you to wield it.”

“But it’s a sexy sword,” Zevran protested and she quirked a brow at him, “and I must have it.”

Standing up, she raised an arm skyward, and brought it down on Zevran’s head.

“Ow,” Zevran frowned at her and she stuck her tongue out at him and began reading through the documents.

“So it’s true!” Alistair exclaimed reading over her shoulder, “he had convinced the forces of Orlais to ally against the Darkspawn.”

“Empress Celene was merely awaiting his response!” Wynne added over her other shoulder.

“A response that never came and now never will,” Alistair sighed, “thanks to Loghain’s treachery.”

“Never is a long time, Alistair,” Wynne replied, “give it time and let cooler heads prevail. There will be peace between us yet.”

“Well, I hope you live to see it, Wynne,” Alistair replied and she kicked his ass, “ow!”

“And I hope the Darkspawn don’t,” Wynne sighed.

“Why are you saying ‘ow!’?” she frowned adjusting her scarf with her free hand and moving through to read through the rest of the documents, “you’re wearing like two layers of metal over your ass.”

“You’re rather aggressive today, my dear Warden,” Zevran said dryly, “and not the kind of aggression I usually like.”

“Aggression is my natural response to asshole-ery, I can’t help it,” she replied flatly, “hmm… no heir, so Arl Eamon wanted him to ‘set Anora aside’, hm? Perhaps that’s one of the reasons he wanted both of them gone… men really are stupid when it comes to women…”

“I think you’ve been hanging around Morrigan too much,” Wynne sighed.

“Oh? Men are just as capable of infertility,” she replied shaking her head while stowing the documents away, “not only that… but I wonder how many lives were lost because of a woman? How many battles started because of lust and obsession for a particular woman? Though personally, I’d rather scar my own face than be forced to endure such a fate.”

“I’d prefer you did not, my dear Warden,” Zevran replied.

“And that is precisely why I would do it,” she said.

“I would still find you more than desirable, my dear Warden,” Zevran replied.

“Then maybe I’d let you have sex with me,” she replied stifling a yawn, “now, let’s get back to business, shall we? The Darkspawn are making my head feel gross.”

They continued across the bridge, deciding to collect the last of Cailan’s gear. Partially to stop Alistair from pouting, and partially because she owed it to their late King to do so, Elric would have wanted this as well…

Half-way across the bridge… was King Cailan’s body, and what she guessed was a necromancer laughed at them.

She wondered why he didn’t animate Cailan’s corpse, and send _that_ after him… that would have been all kinds of fucked up, but a few skeletons made this easier.

“Forgive us, my King,” Alistair said, “when we have driven the Darkspawn from their holes and bought ourselves some time, we shall return to see you to the Maker.”

They continued across the bridge, where she noticed a rather familiar tree.

“I’m glad this tree’s still here,” she said placing a hand on its bark with a soft smile.

“You’re glad… a tree’s still there?” Alistair asked.

“Mmm… this was where I spent my first and only night in Ostagar,” she replied, “I decided I couldn’t trust the ground where Human men were and decided to sleep in the safety of a friendly tree.”

“You almost scared me out of my skin,” Alistair groaned, “I was looking for you and didn’t expect you to just suddenly be behind me.”

“I noticed,” she nodded.

“Up there,” Alistair said, “the Tower of Ishal… let’s do this.”

They fought their way to the Tower entrance, and she had to stop to nudge one of the bodies with her foot. They had long ears, like an Elf… Which made her wonder how Darkspawn replenished their ranks. So far, she’s noticed that Genlocks and Hurlocks have the same anatomical structure of Dwarves and Humans. But these didn’t resemble Elves. And she had no idea where Ogres came from.

“I’ve never seen this type before,” she said.

“I think they’re called Shrieks,” Alistair replied.

“I see…” she nodded, “well, they did shriek a lot.”

***

He hadn’t been lying, he would still find his Warden desirable, even if her face were scarred. In fact, he hadn’t even known what her body could have possibly even looked like, until the Temple of Sacred Ashes, and he’d found her desirable. It wasn’t just her face, it was her confidence, her skill, her voice, her words, the way she moved… She was a strong, proud woman, dangerous, and exciting.

“The last time we were in this Tower, I almost died,” Kallian sighed before they entered the Tower, “let’s hope we don’t have a repeat performance.”

“I hope we don’t either,” Alistair sighed, “I spent three weeks thinking Flemeth and Morrigan were wasting their time.”

He was feeling a little left out, while it was true he most likely spent the most time with her, he had no memories with her here. 

Well, aside from the ones he was making with her now.

Ah, well, at least he would be able to have time with her later, drinking alcohol while gazing at the sky… He was beginning to see the appeal behind her love of star-gazing while enjoying good alcohol.

The necromancing Darkspawn threw a fireball at them, and both he and his Warden leapt away from it, while Alistair moved to protect Wynne from the blast.  
  
“Ugh, down the hole and into the deep,” Alistair groaned, “I don’t even want to imagine where that leads.”

“This is where the Darkspawn entered the Tower from,” Kallian noted, “so… probably nowhere good… I just know I’m getting bad vibes from it. Like, my instincts are telling me that _I_ should not.”

“Well, too bad,” Alistair replied.

“I’m aware,” Kallian sighed, “you take point.”

“Will do,” Alistair nodded and jumped down into the hole.

They dispatched Darkspawn, and then there were spiders and they were killed much swifter, and more brutally than anything else they’d ever fought.

“Well, now I know why my instincts were telling me that I shouldn’t,” Kallian said, there was an ice cold-edge to her voice.

“Oh, that’s right,” Alistair said, “you said you were murderously afraid of sp—”

“What did I tell you about saying that word?” Kallian hissed the blade of her weapon at his neck, the look in her emerald eyes could only be described as murderous, and far more dangerous than the one he was once subject to.

“Right, sorry,” Alistair replied and the sword moved away from his neck.

“So, my dear Warden,” he said, “when you are scared you turn into a raging murderous beast?”

“I suppose,” Kallian replied, “now let’s just get out of this place, shall we?”

They found the exit, much to the delight of his Warden.

“This must be… the Darkspawn’s side of the battle,” Kallian murmured.

“And those are Duncan’s weapons,” Alistair said pointing at a dead Ogre.

“In the body of the Ogre that’s being resurrected by a necromancing Genlock?” he asked.

“Er… yes,” Alistair replied.

His Warden was already in the sky, and as usual, with her long sleeves, she looked as if she’d gained wings. An angel of death, descending down upon the world to unleash her wrath upon its inhabitants.

Well, upon the already dead Ogre, anyway.

“I think… Duncan would have wanted you to have his weapons,” Alistair said handing his Warden the sword and dagger.

“Are you sure?” Kallian asked, “you wanted a memento, didn’t you?”

“I have my Father’s sword,” Alistair replied, “so I think you should have them.”

“If you insist,” Kallian replied and when Alistair turned to take the last of Cailan’s gear from the necromancer, a sour look passed over her face.

His Warden did not share Alistair’s feelings about Duncan. He wondered why that was, but likely, she would never say. Especially knowing that Alistair loved the man like a Father.

“There it is,” Alistair sighed, “the last of them.”

“It’s been a long day,” Wynne sighed, “by the lines around your eyes, I dare say you look as old as I.”

“And if I may say so, milady,” Alistair replied, “you appear to be getting younger by the day.”

“Be careful with who you flirt with, young man,” Wynne chuckled, “when you wake up beside me tomorrow morning, I’ll be back to reminding you of your Grandmother.”

“Beside you?” Alistair asked as Kallian ripped one of her gloves off to cover her mouth with her hand, likely to keep the blood and muck from getting on her face.

“You heard what I said,” Wynne replied, “it would not be the first time I woke to a younger man in my bed.”

“Are all women just evil and conniving?” Alistair asked.

“Just the ones you travel with, my dear,” Wynne chuckled, “just us.”

“Pffffffffffffffffffft,” Kallian burst out laughing, “let’s go see the deceased off and then return to the others.”

“By the way,” Alistair said as they began walking back, “Zevran uses two daggers, but you use a sword and dagger… why is that?”

“Should I use two one-handed swords?” Kallian asked pulling her glove back on, “because I can.”

“Can you really?” Alistair asked, “your arms are tiny.”

“Yes, I can,” Kallian sighed, “but a carrying two swords around is inconvenient, since the scabbards kind of ‘x’ over my butt… But I suppose it just comes down to preference.”

They moved over to the bridge, where King Cailan’s body was.

“Alistair, are you alright?” Wynne asked.

“Ugh… they’ve left him here to rot,” Alistair winced, “we need to do something.”

“He’s of royal blood,” Kallian replied, “and your brother… I think we should give him a pyre.”

“He was a good man who hoped too much and died too young,” Alistair nodded, “he deserves what little honor we can afford to grant him.”

After building as much of a pyre as they could, they returned to the fallen king.

“Lemme up on your shoulders,” Kallian commanded unwinding her scarf and re-securing it around the lower half of her face and tying it with a bow, “so I can bring him down.”

“Alright, be careful,” Alistair said as he helped his Warden climb on his shoulders.

“Here, Zevran, help,” Kallian commanded and he helped her bring him down, “thank you.”

They brought the body of the King to the pyre they built and laid his body on top of it and set it all on fire.

“Alistair, did you speak often with Cailan?” Wynne asked.

“You’re asking me if I have a relationship with my ‘brother’,” Alistair replied, “aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Wynne replied, “I wonder what he thought of you.”

“I didn’t think he cared much about my existence… I thought I didn’t mean anything to him,” Alistair answered with a sigh, “anyway, to answer your original question, no, we never spoke. Well, maybe once. Maric and Cailan had come to Redcliffe to visit the Arl. I was very young then. We were introduced… I believe I said ‘Greetings, your Highness.’ And he said ‘Oohh! Swords!’ and ran off to the armory… so, yes, but that was the extent of our relationship… we drifted apart after that. Very sad… though I suppose it was all one-sided… I suppose he cared for me more than I thought.”

“I think he did as well,” Kallian said speaking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Tao Te Ching Chapter Thirteen_  
>  Contrary to popular belief, _geisha_ didn't sell their bodies, they sold their art. They weren't prostitutes, and they were actually considered artisans.  
>  _Yuujo_ , on the other hand were prostitutes.  
> Both still lived and worked in _hanamachi_ the Red-Light Districts.


	35. How the Cat and Her Companions Stopped Off at Denerim

Kallian and the others returned just a little after sundown. Kallian making sure to bee-line towards her, hopefully with good news. Though, she noticed that they had very few wounds, Kallian sporting none, though the woman rarely got hit in combat. The woman was incredibly lethal and ended her enemies in one hit.

“You have returned from the Wilds… unharmed,” she said in mild shock, “what news have you?”

“Flemeth is dead,” Kallian replied.

“Dead…? You actually managed it?” she asked in shock, and she made a face, “I barely dared to hope ‘twas even possible.”

“She’s definitely been killed before,” Kallian replied, “by a daughter, I think… Or at least someone sent after her by a daughter.”

“Are you certain?”

“Fairly certain, yes… her words reflected as much… Let’s see, what did she say? Ah, yes, it was: ‘Ahh, but it is an old, old story. One that Flemeth has heard before… and even told. Let us skip to the ending, shall we? Do you slay the old wretch as Morrigan bids? Or does the tale take a different turn?’.”

If anyone could dissect and understand her Mother’s words, it was Kallian.

“Did you find the real grimoire?” she asked, “if I am to protect myself from Flemeth in the future…”

“Yes, I did,” Kallian replied handing it over to her.

“And so here it is… Fantastic,” she replied, she couldn’t keep the excitement from her voice before awkwardly addressing Kallian, “and… thank you. For helping me… No one has ever… Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Kallian beamed.

“We are hopefully free of any further pressing obligations involving my protection,” she sighed in relief.

“I’m going to call it a night,” Kallian said with a grin, “sleep well, Morrigan.”

She watched her leave. 

Kallian… traveling with her, was nothing like what she’d expected. She was kind, patient, and understanding. 

She made her wonder if love was truly as weak and needless as she’d been taught.

For Kallian, love seemed like an all-consuming strength.

***

_Look at it, it cannot be seen_  
 _It is called colorless._  
 _Listen to it, it cannot be heard_  
 _It is called noiseless._  
 _Reach for it, it cannot be held_  
 _It is called formless._  
 _These three cannot be completely unraveled_  
 _So they are combined into one._  
 _Above it, not bright_  
 _Below it, not dark._  
 _Continuing endlessly, cannot be named_  
 _It returns back into nothingness_  
 _Thus it is called the form of the formless_  
 _The image of the imageless_  
 _This is called enigmatic_  
 _Confront it, its front cannot be seen._  
 _Follow it, its back cannot be seen._  
 _Wield the Way of the ancients_  
 _To manage the existence of today._  
 _One can know the ancient beginning_  
 _It is called the Axiom of the Way._

Both she and Zevran generally had last watch, since they both needed to spend time on their hair, though with the recruitment of Shale, they didn’t really need watch shifts. Which was great, everyone was able to rest well. Though, she also used the extra time to start on breakfast. With a stifled yawn, she did her morning stretch routine, one of the few things that hadn’t changed since she’d become a Warden. A week to Redcliffe, and then they’d be heading to Denerim and then the Brecilian Forest to see what was up with the Dalish Elves. There were Werewolves, but the Dalish were skilled warriors, from what she understood about the folk.

“I have watched a lot of Humans in my time,” Shale said, “it should be aware that I have decided that it is… not much like any of them.”

“Well… I would hope not,” she replied wryly, “since I’m not Human.”

“Oh, it’s not just _that_. Well… I’m sure that’s part of it, but it’s not only that,” Shale replied, “surely it must come from some superior lineage, yes? Some breed of flesh creature that has decided to elevate its genetic stock above its natural shortcomings?”

“Sure, we Alienage Elves are just better that way,” she replied, “what with our arranged marriages and such.”

“Then that must be it… the Humans have always spoken about Elves being inferior,” Shale replied, “but obviously this is their own stupidity talking.”

“Hah!” she couldn’t stop her bark of laughter, “we talk shit about Humans as well, so the animosity is mutual.”

“I would appreciate if it didn’t spread around that I said anything,” Shale said, “other fleshlings might start to get the wrong idea. They might start thinking their races are not completely hopeless.”

“And we wouldn’t want that!” she grinned.

“Indeed,” Shale shuddered, “can it imagine the horror?”

“The horror indeed,” she replied finishing up cooking breakfast just as the others began to wake up as well.

And after a quick meal, they pulled up camp and began heading back towards Redcliffe. They’d probably spend a day there before heading out to Denerim so that she could put her orders in. Lugging around dragon bones and such for too long would not be good, in that it’d probably attract bandits.

“So come now, Leliana… I am serious this time,” Zevran said, “tell me of your vision.”

“Tell you?” Leliana replied, “certainly not.”

“You’ve told the Grey Wardens of your vision, have you not?” Zevran replied, “why them and not I?”

“You said that you intended to make fun of me,” Leliana glowered, “you actually said that.”

“It was funny at the time,” Zevran replied, “but, come now… surely you can see I am serious now. I honestly wish to know.”

“That’s too bad,” Leliana replied, “I honestly don’t wish to tell you.”

“Then I suspect you don’t even believe in your own vision,” Zevran replied.

“What? I… that’s not true!” Leliana argued, “I do believe in it!”

Oh dear… She could tell where this was going.

“Then you would stand by it,” Zevran replied, “no matter what the consequences.”

“Do you intend to make fun of me?” Leliana asked.

“Well, yes,” Zevran laughed, “I can’t help it.”

“I… you…” Leliana fumed, “I simply…”

“I know, I know,” Zevran continued laughing, “terrible.”

“Kalli, do something!” Leliana stated.

“Why is it always me?” she sighed shaking her head but whacked him on the shoulder anyway, “stop.”

“My dear Warden,” Zevran replied, “you enjoy laughing at others as well.”

“While true,” she replied, “I don’t laugh at people for their beliefs like that.”

***

Alienage Elves have arranged marriages? How had his Warden not been married off to a good family by now? Well, not that he was complaining, if she were married, then she would be out of his reach. So as things stood, she was still in a place where he could reach out to her without worrying about a lover from her past coming after him. At current, he was the only one pursuing her, so he had no need to worry about competition. He could take his time unraveling her secrets, of which she had many. Of course, he still wanted to have sex with her, but that went without saying. But more than that, ever since they’d met, he’d always simply wanted to know more about her.

About the shadows she harbored within her heart, about the one she felt she’d failed. 

About the reason she wanted to die.

“So here is a question for the Painted Elf,” Shale said.

“Painted Elf?” he asked, “oh! You mean me! I do like that.”

“Am I to understand correctly,” Shale replied, “that the Painted Elf is a ‘crow’?”

“Not literally, but yes,” he replied, “I am a Crow.”

“As in a bird?”

“Is there another sort?”

“So the Painted Elf assaults helpless statuary with its feces?”

“If given sufficient cause, why not?”

“That is outrageous!” Shale exclaimed, “the Painted Elf will stay away from me. Or else.”

“I think I’m going to vomit,” Kallian groaned, “that’s disgusting, please stay away from me as well.”

“Then, I will never do such a thing,” he replied, “you have my word.”

“…That was quick,” Kallian said dryly, “in any case, don’t let me dictate how you live your life, you’re a free man, nya.”

“So, my dear Warden,” he said, “why have you not been married off to a well-to-do family?”

“Ahh… you heard the thing about arranged marriages?” Kallian asked with a sigh, “arranged marriages tend to happen when one is at least twenty-one.”

“Is that why you haven’t taken a man to your bed?” he asked.

“No, that one’s a personal choice,” Kallian answered, “plus, there’s the fact that no one’s really gone after me as well.”

“I still find that rather hard to believe,” he replied.

Especially considering the fact that that boy, Elroy had had feelings for her. He wondered how many people had tried going after his Warden.

“Why is it so hard to believe?” Kallian asked furrowing her brows, “no one wanted me… well, aside from scum, and I suppose, now also you.”

“Just scum?” Morrigan asked.

“Yeah, which suited me just fine,” Kallian replied, “because screwing with scum is fun.”

“Screwing with—?!” Alistair stared at her in shock.

“Yeah, it’s fun,” Kallian replied, “putting them in their proper places… it’s great.”

“And where are their proper places?” Morrigan asked, and all Kallian did was give a soft smile.

He didn’t blame any of the ‘scum’ she ‘screwed with’ for chasing after her. It made him remember what she’d said before, about how men are ‘stupid when it comes to women’. She had wondered how many lives were lost because of a woman, knowing full well that she’d left behind her own trail of men who’d died because they’d chased after her. She was clearly aware of her own feminine wiles and knew how to use them to their full effect.

“You know, Kalli,” Alistair said, “sometimes, you downright terrify me… you have a way of saying the scariest things with a beaming smile. Like when you mentioned that the first person to have called you an ‘it’ was brutally slaughtered like a dog.”

“Kalli’s disarming smiles make it easy for you to forget just how deadly she really is,” Leliana replied.

“Puppies! Kittens! Sunshine and rainbows!” Kallian replied happily, “I’m going to set you on fire. Candy! Clouds! Strawberries! Nyaa!”

“Yes! Like that!” Alistair replied, “it’s exactly like that!”

***

They returned to Redcliffe in the late afternoon and decided they’d be spending the rest of the day there. She and Morrigan would be sharing a room, Bella didn’t have enough free rooms, for her to have her own. Something she was completely fine with. Morrigan had been keeping to herself for a while, pouring over the contents of Flemeth’s True Grimoire. Honestly, she was a little worried about that. She may have asked her to do it, but personally, she’d hate her Mother’s murderer.

Alistair headed to the castle to deliver the documents to Arl Eamon on his own, mostly because she didn’t feel comfortable being in front of the person whose son she killed. Well, that, and she was sure he had things he wanted to talk to Arl Eamon about on his own. Not only that, but Elissa had no qualms with staying at the castle.

“’Tis a curious thing,” Morrigan said after they entered the room, “I do not know how else to describe it…”

“What’s up?” she asked plopping down in the middle of the bed that was furthest from the door and patting an open space for Morrigan to sit next to her, “something wrong?”

“No, nothing is wrong, it… is a little embarrassing to admit, in fact,” Morrigan explained joining her on the bed, “I am reminded of our first meeting in the Wilds. I had been in animal form for some time, watching your progress… I was intrigued to see such a formidable woman, obviously more potent than the men she traveled with… Yet I resented it when Flemeth assigned me to travel with you. I assumed that, at best, you would drive me from your company as soon as we left the Wilds.”

“Why would I do that?” she asked.

“I am aware that I have… little talent for forming friendships, to put it lightly, ‘tis something I know nothing of, nor ever thought I needed. Yet when I discovered Flemeth’s plans, you did not abandon me. Whatever your reasons, you fought what must have been a terrible battle without hope of real reward.”

“She turned into a High Dragon, it was crazy, but I told you, I’m not gonna let someone I care about be in danger.”

“And that is what I do not understand. Of all the things I could have imagined would have resulted when Flemeth told me to go with you, the very last would have been that I would find in you a friend. Perhaps, even a sister… I want you to know that while I may not always prove… worthy… of your friendship, I will always value it.”

“I will always value it as well,” she replied with a smile, “ah, by the way, Leli and Zevran found out about this by chance… but do you remember how I mentioned that Flemeth’s ‘game’ sounded like something I used to do?”

“Of course.”

“I used to lead men on merry chases through the back alleys of Denerim… not fast enough for them to lose interest, not slow enough to get caught… just right… and they would chase me, and I would lead them closer and closer to the hideouts of the various gangs and smuggling rings in Denerim… and to their dooms. I would turn a corner and leap onto the roof of a nearby building and their shouting would draw the gang out.”

“How did Leliana and Zevran find out?” Morrigan asked amusement clear in her voice and face.

“I accepted some jobs for the Crows,” she answered with a sly grin, “apparently, the Crows wasted two years trying to recruit me… and remember how I was attacked in that one village?”

“How could I forget? What with how long everyone went on about it.”

“All of those men are dead, I didn’t kill them, but I didn’t prevent their deaths… I did, however, avenge them… since I killed the Darkspawn that killed them,” she replied, “the proper place of scum, is beneath my heel.”

“And to think that the others think you a sweet and mostly harmless young woman…” Morrigan said, “when in actuality, you are the most devious and calculating amongst us all.”

“Well, the only ones who have to fear me are scum, really… the ones I eliminated through that method were rapists and molesters. Scum in the truest sense of the word,” she chuckled, “so I culled them to protect others… I’ve always been willing to get my hands dirty to protect those I care for.”

“When ‘tis for those you care about… you hold nothing back, do you?”

“Nope, I imagine I would be a very possessive lover as well,” she replied, “so, what are your plans now that Flemeth is dead?”

“Now I have enough time to study Mother’s grimoire to find a way to prevent her from stealing my body in the future,” Morrigan replied, “for she will be back. One day. I have no doubt of that.”

“Especially considering that it sounded like it’s something she’s been through before,” she nodded.

“And if I cannot protect myself, one day I will track her down again in whatever body she inhabits… and she will die again. And again, if need be… but there is no need to think of such things now. I have you to thank for saving me.”

“You know you can always rely on me, right?” she asked with a wry smile.

“You… too much could happen in days to come to… make such promises,” Morrigan said awkwardly, “yet I am… grateful…”

“You know, don’t you?” she sighed.

“‘Know’? Know what?” Morrigan replied.

“How to end the Blight,” she sighed again they were far enough away from the door that if they kept their voices down low enough, no one else would hear.

Not even sneaky Elven assassins, and Orlesian bards, though she doubted they’d be listening in. They had no reason to suspect they were talking about anything special, but caution for something like this was key… She didn’t want anyone letting the proverbial cat out of the bag.

“You… how did you find out how…?”

“Books. I purchased and read studies on the previous Blights… the Archdemon Dumat came back to life in another body after being struck down,” she answered, “until the Grey Wardens entered the scene… it wasn't hard to figure out the reason why Grey Wardens need to physically alter our bodies from there.”

“Then you…?”

“Lied to Alistair?” she asked looking to the side, “yes… I did… I have no intention of him being the one to end the Blight with his life…”

“Perhaps… perhaps within Mother’s grimoire, there will be a way to ensure your survival…”

“It’s fine,” she replied with a wry smile, “I’m tired of being alive, anyway.”

“Why… would you think that?”

“That, is one story I’ll never tell,” she replied with a laugh scooting off the bed and leaving the room.

She shouldn’t be surprised that Morrigan knew how to end the Blight, Flemeth was very old, after all, and making sure Morrigan was adequately equipped to help them end it made sense. Not only that, but Flemeth likely knew a great deal about the Blight, not just how to end it. How much of that knowledge she shared with Morrigan, however, was a different story… Honestly, it seemed as though Flemeth only told Morrigan the bare minimum about other things… Likely wanting her to discover the world herself… or something. Or perhaps to simply keep her ignorant of her craft, and her intentions.

***

Kallian… knew how to end the Blight… Of course she’d be able to figure it out. Of course she’d be able to piece it together… Between the two remaining Wardens, Kallian questioned everything, and there was no way that she would allow herself to continue being ignorant when the future of Ferelden was on their shoulders.

To think that the strong, proud, Kallian, who was filled with seemingly endless quantities of kindness, compassion, wisdom, and love…wanted to end her life…

There was a way to save her, but as she was now, it would be useless.

Was there something she could do to stop her? To keep from losing her only friend? From losing her sister? 

She remembered a conversation a long time ago, Kallian had considered herself naught more than a disappointing lump of coal. But how could anyone have thought that the Kallian they knew now, was merely a shadow of her former self? That the Kallian they knew was broken and incomplete? How could anyone have known that Kallian wanted to die? 

Well, there was one person who had probably figured out that Kallian no longer wished to live…

And that person was the one who was hired to take her life: Zevran.

She could make use of him, and his attachment to the woman. If he could sway Kallian, make her stop seeking her own death… 

Then she could save her. 

But to do so, he must become a big enough influence on her… 

He would need her to fall in love with him. Which meant that what she needed, was for both of them to fall in love with each other. 

Her own thoughts on love aside, for Kallian, love was everything. Love was ultimately the reason behind all of her actions, her motivations, to Kallian, love was strength. The source of Kallian’s skills, abilities, and knowledge, ultimately came from the sheer amount she loved. So, perhaps she should try to believe in the source of Kallian’s strength, and pray that it could save her.

For hers has surely saved many others.

***

His Warden lifted her clasped hands above her head and stretched out her back after settling down on a roof looking out at the lake and the sky. He tapped her on the shoulder with his bottle of Antivan Brandy, and when she turned and saw the label, she let out an excited gasp as her entire face lit up.

“You know, my dear Warden,” he said wryly as Kallian took a drink and pressed her hand to her cheek in bliss, “sex will make you feel good as well.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Kallian replied handing the bottle back to him, “but I’m perfectly happy simply enjoying alcohol.”

“Are you not interested in men, my dear Warden?” he asked, honestly, he’d never thought to ask her that before.

“I am… though I feel like I’ve answered that question before,” Kallian said in thought, “who… who asked me… Ah! It was Shianni. She asked me if I wanted to go to her side. I told her I didn’t feel that way about women.”

“What led to that conversation?” he asked.

“Uhhhmmm… what was it…” Kallian said a hand to her chin in thought, “oh, right, I asked her how her relationship was going. And she told me that it was going better than my lack of one.”

“I’m curious, my dear Warden, how did you know I prefer women?”

“It wasn’t hard to figure out, when we first met, you listed women before men, and then when you were telling me about the Crows, you added men as if it were an afterthought. ‘It gets you wealth. It gets you women… and men, or whatever it is you might fancy’ you said it like that, which tells me your preference leans towards women, nya.”

“I did not know you were watching me so closely, my dear Warden.”

“I’m observant, I’m good at noticing things… Like the fact that currently, at this moment, Alistair and Elissa are together.”

“Are they now?” he asked with a coquettish grin.

“Mmhm… I saw them go into one of the now-empty houses about half an hour ago… Try not to tease them about it too much tomorrow morning.”

“Which house was it?”

“Not telling.”

“Come now, what’s the harm?”

“Nuh-uh,” Kallian shook her head before standing up and leaping down from the roof, she stuck her tongue out at him and vanished.

The next morning, they got up to begin setting out to Denerim, and then the Brecilian Forest to recruit the Dalish…

His Mother had been a Dalish Elf…

“Did you have a good time together last night?” he asked upon seeing Alistair, who turned fifty different shades of red.

“How— How did—!?” Alistair squawked.

“I didn’t,” he laughed, “but did you try arch—”

“Oi,” Kallian frowned kicking his foot, “stop it, you lump of lewd.”

“Lump of—” Alistair began laughing.

“Come on,” Kallian sighed already walking away, “we’ve got places to go, things to do, and probably people to kill.”

Diana scoffed at them and moved to follow his Warden.

“We have dogs in Antiva,” he mused, “they run in the streets and eat garbage.”

Diana did what he guessed was something akin to rolling her eyes at him.

“It’s true… they’re treated as vermin, mostly,” he recounted, “not like here in Ferelden… you’re rather lucky to live here, you know.”

Diana huffed.

“Indeed, here they make statues of dogs. They carve you into their thrones and put armor on you,” he replied, “amazing, really.”

Diana barked.

“Thankfully, your mistress keeps you well-groomed,” he replied, “so we don’t have to worry about you smelling like dog.”

Diana barked happily.

That was the first time he’d ever gotten any sort of positive reaction from her.

“Have you changed your mind yet?” Wynne asked him, “are you willing to speak seriously?”

“About Kallian’s thighs?” he asked noting a small jolt in his Warden, “as you wish.”

Ah, right, he wasn’t allowed to say her name.

“No, I do not wish to speak of Kallian’s thighs,” Wynne replied in exasperation.

“But her thighs are marvelous!” he replied, “so soft, and supple…”

“Stop… talking about Kallian’s thighs,” Wynne groaned.

“But I thought you wished to speak seriously?” he asked.

“I do,” Wynne sighed tiredly, “I thought, however foolishly, that you might be willing to speak of your past.”

“We could do that,” he replied, “there have been many thighs in my past, though only a few were as marvelous as hers.”

He barely had enough time to duck under the kick aimed straight at his head. He’d almost forgotten how quickly his Warden could move across a battlefield, he had only served as her opponent once, and he’d been knocked out in a single hit.

“Leave my thighs out of your damn conversations!” Kallian glowered, “they’re just thighs!”

Honestly, it should be a counted a miracle that she’d even allowed him to go on for that long about her thighs.

***

They spent two weeks traveling back to Denerim and were now a few days away. As expected, the villagers at the village they’d stayed at before were still talking about the Darkspawn, and how they killed a group of men. This time, no one left Kallian alone. Both she and Zevran knew the truth behind what happened to the group of men, but the others didn’t.

“So I am to understand the Sister is a follower of this ‘Maker’?” Shale asked.

“Am I the Sister?” she asked, “aw, that’s so cute… it’s like you’re my big brother or sister… or whatever.”

“I am a creature of stone,” Shale scoffed, “I doubt that we will be related in any shape or form.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean it literally,” she replied, “don’t you think people can be related in spirit? Kalli and I are like sisters, Kalli and Morrigan are also like sisters… And Kalli and Alistair are like siblings.”

“You’ve become the communal sibling,” Sten said turning to Kallian.

“That’s fine,” Kallian replied with a wink, “just leave dinner to this older sis!”

“We were going to anyway,” Sten replied.

“I know, I just wanted to try saying that once,” Kallian replied waving a sleeve around, “if I weren’t playful, then I’d just be a trickster, nya.”

“I noticed that Humans tend to believe in a great deal of things that are not true,” Shale remarked, “even when given evidence to the contrary.”

“Believing in things when there is no proof is what faith is all about, Shale,” she replied.

“Believing in things when there is no proof is what gullibility is all about,” Shale replied, and Morrigan let out a bark of laughter.

“So I am gullible now?” she asked with a sigh.

“I, ah,” Shale replied, “take it we are no longer sisters in spirit?”

“Kalli, you’re the youngest out of all of us,” Alistair said, “so you can’t be everyone's older sister.”

“Meh,” Kallian replied, “age is just a number… the amount of years one has spent walking the earth doesn’t necessarily dictate the wisdom and sense of responsibility one possesses.”

“I guess you are kind of like a fifty-year-old woman trapped in the body of an eighteen-year-old,” Alistair replied.

“Yep, that sounds about right,” Kallian replied.

“You’re not going to get angry at me for calling you a fifty-year-old woman?” Alistair asked in surprise.

“Why should I?” Kallian shrugged, “if the shoe fits, wear it… When have I ever not owned up to the person I am, nya?”

“When I called you a wild animal?” Alistair replied.

“And then Kalli once told me that she ‘may be like a wild animal, but wild animals are also beautiful, graceful, and unafraid.’,” she said joining the conversation, “and that is why I should go with my instincts.”

“It’s true,” Kallian replied, “I did say that indeed.”

***

Kallian put their disguises on before they entered the city, just like last time. He hated having goop on his face, but it was necessary since they were wanted for regicide. They’d spend the rest of the day here, and head back out tomorrow morning, they were staying at a different inn this time, and for some reason, that innkeeper gave them a discount. Saying that Kallian was a ‘treasured existence’. He had no clue why people saw her that way, and it all seemed very hush-hush, and he had a feeling that it wasn’t just because of her sunny disposition.

“Hi Herren, Wade!” Kallian said greeting the man behind the counter before walking straight past him, “I need help.”

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite Elf!” Wade replied greeting Kallian, “where have you been?”

“Killing Darkspawn and uniting a country, mostly,” Kallian replied casually.

“What do you need help with?” Wade asked.

“I need armor and arms made,” Kallian replied before jerking her thumb at him, Sten, Zevran, and Leliana, “armor for them and arms made for all of us… out of… well, it’s best if you saw it for yourself.”

Kallian and Wade left the shop to go to Bodahn’s cart where the drake scales, dragon-hide, and dragon bones were.

And from the closed door, he heard the loudest squeal of excitement he’d probably ever hear in his entire life before Kallian was being shoved back into the shop.

“We’ll need to do measurements right away!” Wade said speaking quickly.

“And then I’d like these weapons made,” Kallian said passing Wade a piece of paper, “with the bones.”

“What? What’s going on?” Herren asked.

“Drake scales!” Wade replied excitedly, “and not just drake scales, Herren! Drake scales, and HIGH Dragon bones and hide!”

“Make ‘em fit for a King, especially that sword, we’re naming it Excalibur,” Kallian said seriously as Wade went to go get his measurements, “and how much will this cost?”

He wondered why she was dead set on naming the sword Excalibur, he should ask her about it later.

“Nothing!” Wade replied, “I should be paying _you_ for the privilege of being able to work with such fine materials!”

“Right,” Kallian replied dropping a large purse of coins on the counter, “sorry, Herren… I was worried this might happen so I’ve been saving up…”

“Were it anyone else,” Herren sighed, “they would be banned from the shop for life.”

“Are they always like this?” he asked quietly after his measurements were taken.

“Geniuses are always a little eccentric, nya,” Kallian replied, “Wade how long do you think it’ll take?”

“Come back in two weeks,” Wade replied after everyone's measurements were taken.

“Got it,” Kallian replied, “and again, sorry Herren.”

“Yes, yes,” Herren replied with another sigh, “just get out.”

And with that they were kicked out of the shop.

“We should probably make sure Brother Genitivi made it back,” Kallian said with a stifled yawn and a stretch, “and also drop the scrolls off at the Chantry… Actually, Alistair, can you take the scroll to the Chantry?”

“Sure,” he replied taking the scrolls from her, “what are you going to do? See Brother Genitivi?”

“Yes, and I’ll meet you back at the inn,” Kallian replied leaving towards Brother Genitivi’s house with a nod and a wave.

***

His Warden knocked on the door to Brother Genitivi’s home, and Brother Genitivi looked at her skeptically, until he saw Leliana behind her. It seemed to make him understand that there was a need for secrecy.

“Ah, yes,” Brother Genitivi said, “you are a Grey Warden, right?”

“Yeah, and we’re currently being blamed for regicide,” Kallian replied, “but I’m glad to see you made it back alright.”

“I had not expected to see you so soon,” Brother Genitivi replied, “I’ve written to the Chantry, telling them of your adventures. They are interested in having me lead an expedition! What do you think of that? I’m quite excited.”

“That’s wonderful news,” Kallian replied, “and, I’m sure you’ll be pleased to learn that Arl Eamon was cured by Andraste’s Ashes.”

“He was?! You made this all possible… I could never thank you quite enough, but I’m certainly going to try” Brother Genitivi replied excitedly moving to a chest to take something out and handed it over to Kallian, “here, take this reward. I want you to have it.”

“Thank you,” Kallian replied accepting the rune.

“It will certainly do more good in your hands than lying around in this dusty house, eh?” Brother Genitivi replied, “and now if you will excuse me, I have so much to prepare for… I wish Weylon was here to see all this…”

“Try not to get into too much trouble,” Kallian replied before they left.

“Honestly, that is something that should be said to you, my dear,” he replied stopping himself from calling her his Warden, “you get into so much mischief…”

“He’s right, you know,” Leliana said speaking up, “you get up to an alarming amount of things.”

“True, but I can generally get myself out of trouble fairly easily,” Kallian replied waving a sleeve around, “especially since my instincts are generally spot-on… So I can also avoid it.”

“This is true,” he sighed, “still, I’m fairly certain that you will be the death of me.”

“Eh, you’re a Crow,” Kallian replied, “Crows are free, they have wings, they can fly… And you can do the same, I’m sure.”

In the beginning, that was what he had wanted: her to be the death of him. But now? Now she had saved him, she gave him something he hadn’t even dared to dream of obtaining, and she had done it in one short sentence, a sentence he’d never forget for however long his life might be.

And now he knew how to fly.

***

She was glad that the Brecilian Forest wasn’t on the other side of Ferelden… Like Orzammar now was. Still, it would take a day or two to get there, hopefully, they could run into one of the Dalish clans.

“I wonder if those two idiots found the Dalish,” she mused crossing her right leg over her left under the table she was sitting at.

“Two idiots?” Wynne asked.

“Mm… My friends’ brothers decided to go hunt for the Dalish, sometime before I left,” she replied, “poor Taeodor… he likely argued with them about it a lot.”

“You don’t fear death or dying, do you, Robin?” Wynne asked.

“Whoa that came from nowhere,” she replied in shock, “it surprised me… but no, I don’t. Some say death is the final journey… I’m curious to see what kind of journey it’ll be.”

Considering that her last foray into death landed her here.

“Many people fear, not death, but having life taken from them… many waste the life given to them, occupying themselves with things that do not matter,” Wynne replied, “when the end comes, they say they did not have time enough to spend with loved ones, to fulfill dreams, to go on adventures they only talked about.”

“I count every day I can think ‘it’s a good day to die’ as a successful day,” she replied, “in the end, we’re all dying, just at different rates… so knowing this, I live my life the way I want to, while staying true to myself.”

“Yes… why should you fear death if you are happy with the life you have led, if you can look back on everything and say ‘yes, I am content. It is enough.’.”

“So, why have you brought it up? Are you content?”

She was still unclear where this conversation was coming from.

“I think I’ve led a good life, a full life, and I, for one, am also not afraid of death, whatever it may bring,” Wynne replied, “they say that when you die, your spirit travels through the Fade and returns to the Maker. And after that… we’ll see, won’t we?”

“I highly doubt I’m going to the Maker’s side,” she mused, “which is perfectly fine with me.”

“Do you have any regrets?” Wynne asked.

Ah, regrets. That’s right, Wynne was on borrowed time… of course, she’d be thinking of them.

“Who doesn’t? But dwelling on them does no one any good.”

“Yes, we would go quite mad if we did that, wouldn’t we? I do have one regret, however, the greatest misstep of my life, made even more grave because it had dire consequences for someone else.”

“Those… are the worst.”

“Yes… years ago, I was assigned as mentor to a lad, Aneirin. He was my first apprentice. Aneirin was an Elf, raised in one of the Elven Alienages, and he was very mistrustful of Humans, especially Humans in authority.”

“Yep, sounds about right. We’re basically taught to try to avoid being noticed as much as possible so that we don’t get raped, murdered, or both.”

“Yes… What Aneirin needed was time, time to get used to his new home, time to emerge from his shell so we could build a rapport.”

“Yeah, changes in environments can lead to a huge increase in stress,” she nodded, “Shianni was like that when she came to live with us… she _hated_ it.”

“He would have fared far better under your tutelage, just as Alistair has… I gave him no such time. I was young and arrogant. ‘He is a mage,’ I thought, ‘he needs to grow up and act like one.’ I expected too much from him, too quickly. I gave no consideration to his origin or his feelings. And he retreated further from me… All I could think of was how stubborn he was, how he was throwing away all his talent and his potential, just to be difficult.”

“Was he talented?”

“Oh, very much so. Sometimes I would catch him practicing on his own, but if I asked him to show me what he could do, he would freeze up, or fumble terribly… you cannot plant crops in the cold wintry ground, you cannot teach a student who is closed off and unresponsive… Patience is what is needed, and I learned that too late to help him.”

“What happened to him?”

“Aneirin ran away from the Circle, one night. I had berated him over some trivial, ridiculous matter that I no longer remember. I drove him away because of something utterly unimportant… He was a child, fourteen at the time of his leaving. They had his phylactery and they hunted him down…”

“Why didn’t they just bring him back to the Tower?”

“They called him a maleficar, he was a child, misunderstood and lost… I begged the Templars to tell me if he suffered, if they gave him a quick death. I got no answers from them. I was his mentor and they wouldn’t even tell me what became of him.”

“That… was rather cruel of them.”

“I should have known better, I had the best mentors, they were kind, compassionate… why didn’t I learn from them? I failed Aneirin… all I had to do was listen to him. He would try to talk to me, and I would tell him to concentrate on his spells… He talked about the Alienage sometimes… and the Dalish. He always talked about looking for the Dalish Elves… Do the Elves in the Alienage often dream of finding the Dalish?”

Ah, the Dalish, that was why. It’s because she was wondering whether Edwyn and Jinan reached the Dalish… 

That was only a few months ago, and now it felt like an entire lifetime…

How naive she was that day…

“Many of them didn’t think they actually existed, actually,” she replied, “our Elder never told us much about them in order to keep us from doing something stupid… But maybe he did find the Dalish.”

“The Templars are well-trained and thorough. That he still lives… it would be a vain hope. The apprentices that came after Aneirin benefited greatly from the lessons I learned from him. In a sense, he was my teacher, and I his student…”

“Hope will never die… I remember a story I read once, a woman had been given a jar by the gods but told her to never _ever_ open it, or something along those lines. Well, her curiosity got the best of her, and she opened it. And from that jar sprouted evils, sickness, death, and all kinds of bad stuff… She closed it as quickly as she could, but by the time she had closed it, there was only one thing left: hope. Even after all of that escaped, hope alone remained… So in the end, hope was all she had left.”

“You’re good at giving hope even when it can’t be found,” Wynne said wryly.

“Well, hope is the direct opposite of despair… so what better way to fight it than by using its opposite? In any case, we can certainly ask them if they know anything. It wouldn’t hurt.”

“What kinds of regrets do you have if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Everyone I’ve failed to save… Survivor’s guilt is like that, you wonder why you were able to get through a situation relatively unharmed, but everyone one else wasn’t… I’m glad Alistair seems to be better about his,” she stood up from her seat, she wanted to see the sky, “I’m going to go get some fresh air.”

***

She had no idea how to bring this up.

How does one tell someone to make someone fall in love with them?

“Zevran,” she said finally, catching him before he left to follow Kallian, “if you’re not careful, you will lose her.”

“I know,” Zevran sighed, “and what of it?”

“Kallian’s is a will strong enough to defy fates,” she replied, “if you want to save her, you’ll need one just as strong, if not stronger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Tao Te Ching Chapter Fourteen_


	36. How the Cat Found the Dalish

_Yield and remain whole_  
_Bend and remain straight_  
_Be low and become filled_  
_Be worn out and become renewed_  
_Have little and receive_  
_Have much and be confused_  
_Therefore the sages hold to the one_  
_as an example for the world_  
_Without flaunting themselves — and so are seen clearly_  
_Without presuming themselves — and so are distinguished_  
_Without praising themselves — and so have merit_  
_Without boasting about themselves — and so are lasting_  
_Because they do not contend_  
_the world cannot contend with them_  
_What the ancients called "the one who yields and remains whole"_  
_Were they speaking empty words?_  
_Sincerity becoming whole, and returning to oneself._

To be completely honest, she wondered about the time frame Wade had given them. Two weeks for all of that seemed kinda short… Then again, she had no clue what blacksmithing entailed, though… in another life, she would have. Still, they should be in the forest tomorrow. Hopefully, the Dalish clan hadn’t been decimated yet.

Wait a minute… Werewolves? Weren’t Werewolves a thing in her past life? They were like a fake thing, but a thing… On only the full moon type of thing… if you get attacked by them you turn into one or something, right? And what else was there? Only silver could kill them? Then again, she didn’t expect that worlds lore to be reflected here.

“By the way, Kalli,” Alistair asked, “why are you so dead set on naming the sword Excalibur?”

“Ali-butt… don’t worry about it,” she replied, “Excalibur’s a great name for a sword.”

“But why Excalibur?” Alistair asked again.

“Well, why not Excalibur?” she asked.

The good ol’ ‘why not?’ question that can shut down most arguments… in either an empowering way or just to stop it. How many faces has she seen light up when asked why they couldn’t do something? How many faces has she seen faces drop into confusion when asked why she couldn’t do something?

Either way, their reactions to the question were incredibly hilarious for her. 

She stretched and began wandering off on her own, camp was set up, she wasn’t on dinner duty today, so it should be fine for her to go on a walk… and not the murderous kind.

***

_“Kallian’s is a will strong enough to defy fates. If you want to save her, you’ll need one just as strong, if not stronger.”_

How exactly does one acquire a will strong enough to defy fates?

“Ahhhhhhh,” Kallian sighed finally sitting down after walking for a while, “the Dalish… huh…?”

“What about them?” he asked sitting next to her.

“Mm… just the last time I really thought about them I was naive,” Kallian replied, “so… very, very, naive.”

“In what way?”

“Seeeeeeeeeecreeeeeeeeet.”

“What do you know about the Dalish?” he asked deciding to simply drop it. 

She never indulged them with her secrets unless they caught her, she was truly a trickster.

“Next to nothing,” Kallian replied, “do you?”

He wanted to tell her about Rinna, but he was concerned with how she’d react, though, knowing her, she wouldn’t react negatively. However, it was the fact that he had gotten Rinna killed that worried him. Still, would telling her of Rinna be enough for her to tell him about her own past? About why _she_ wanted to die?

He decided to test the waters by telling her of his Mother, to see how she’d react to it. How she’d react to hearing of a past that had deeply affected him. There was more he wanted to tell her, hoping that she would tell him things in return.

“I know little enough of the Dalish, other than the fact that my Mother was one. Or so I was told… She had fallen in love with an Elven woodcutter and accompanied him back to the city, leaving her clan behind for good.”

“Whoa, how bold,” Kallian replied before staring at him for a bit then tapping her lap twice. He hesitated but rested his head on her thighs, this time laying on his back so he could see the stars.

“And there, of course, the woodcutter died of some filthy disease and my Mother was forced into prostitution to pay off his debts… Oldest tale in the book.”

“Was the woodcutter your Father?”

“How should I know? My Mother was a whore, as you’ll recall… None of the other Elven boys in the whorehouse knew their Fathers… I was not so unusual… I didn’t know my Mother, either, of course. She died giving birth to me. My first victim, as it were.”

“I see…”

“We were all raised communally by the whores. It was a happy enough existence, ignoring the occasional beating, until eventually I was sold to the Crows… I brought a good price, so I hear.”

“I… don’t know what to say…”

“It could have been much worse… shall I tell you about what happened to the other whorehouse boys who did not fetch a decent price with the Crows? Surely your life has not been so idyllic? People like you and I are not the product of happy lives of contentment, after all.”

“I dunno, I was pretty happy and content,” Kallian replied sighing heavily, “until everything that could go wrong, went wrong and I ended up…”

“A Grey Warden?” he asked when she trailed off.

“Yeah, sure, let’s go with that one,” Kallian replied, “that one sounds much better… the events leading up to it were the same anyway.”

“Just what happened in your past, my dear Warden?” he asked.

“Oh, you know, just the usual… death, destruction, suffering, pain, naivety, shattered dreams… it’s the second oldest tale in the book, really.”

“You wouldn’t tell me even if I asked, would you?”

“Of course not,” Kallian replied, “that’s a story I’ll never tell.”

“Well, my original point, is that my Mother’s Dalish nature was always a point of fascination for me… Through all the years of my Crow training, the one thing of my Mother’s that I possessed was a pair of gloves… they were of Dalish make, I knew that much, and beautiful… I had to keep them hidden, of course, as we were not allowed such things. Eventually, they were discovered, and I never saw them again.”

“You don’t consider yourself Dalish though, do you?”

“Not at all, I think of myself as Antivan. Still, that did not stop me from running off to join a clan when it drew near Antiva City, once… Naturally, the reality did not live up at all to the fantasies I had constructed as a boy, staring at those gloves.”

“Well, for what it’s worth,” Kallian said looking down at him, her eyes meeting his, “thank you, for being born.”

He’d always appreciated the fact that his Warden never judged people based on their pasts. How she only cared about the person in front of her, not where they came from and what they’d done before. Likely because she knew her own past wasn’t all that great, the things she did to protect others. How she dirtied her hands in so that others wouldn’t get hurt.

“And thank you for becoming a Grey Warden,” he replied, and a sour look crossed her face, “I’ve wondered this before, but… you did not choose to become a Warden… did you?”

“No,” Kallian sighed in resignation, “I’m also fairly certain that my Mother is rolling in her grave screaming at Duncan.”

“And you do not care for Duncan, do you?”

“Am I that obvious?” Kallian asked in alarm.

“No, no, I’m sure Alistair still has no clue,” he replied sitting up, “but you made such a sour face when Alistair gave you his weapons.”

“I slipped up, I see,” Kallian sighed again standing up and dusting herself off, “I’ll have to be more careful then.”

He felt like he was finally getting somewhere, where that was, he wasn’t sure yet… He still had no idea why she wanted to end herself. But, now he knew for certain that she had been forced into the Wardens and that she did not care for Duncan.

Still, he didn’t think anyone would thank him for being born as she had.

***

_Angered faces stared at her accusingly._

_“So, you ended up running away to the Dalish?” Nelaros sneered, “you know that all you’ll end up doing is ruining him. Just like you ruined everyone else. That’s all you’re capable of, isn’t it?”_

_Anger was rarely logical, they both knew the reason they were going to seek the Dalish._

_She watched him get cut down by the other her._

_“You naive fool,” the Masked Woman laughed, “you don’t deserve a happy life. Who can you save, when you can’t even save yourself?”_

_“No one,” she replied as she weakly deflected a blow._

They were going to reach the forest in about an hour or two, and she was internally kicking herself. Zevran could tell she didn’t like Duncan… did anyone else know? She hoped not. Also that she didn’t choose to become a Warden, she hoped no one else knew that one too. Or that she hated that she was a Warden. Actually, did Zevran know she hated being a Warden?

“So, my dear Warden,” Zevran said, “tell us of _your_ adventures.”

“The first time I killed someone,” she sighed feeling dead inside, “I snapped his neck, stole his sword before his body fell, and decapitated the second… I had to go for the necks because they were wearing armor.”

“Impressive,” Sten said.

“Glad you think so,” she replied with a sigh.

“What led up to that?” Wynne asked.

“Let me guess,” Alistair answered for her, “it’s a secret?”

“Yeppers,” she replied snapping her fingers into a thumbs up, “but I’ll just say that… you should always pick your targets wisely, for you never know when you might anger the true beast.”

She wondered if Jinan and Edwyn found the Dalish, and if so if they were alright. Thinking about it, maybe they should have gone to the forest earlier… Ahhh… how could she have forgotten about them? Probably because that life seemed like it was someone else’s life now… That her was dead. 

She killed her.

That her had no place in the life she led now, that naive her who simply wanted to live a normal life. That her had died along with Nelaros.

“I have noticed that the Painted Elf seeks the attention of the Superior Warden,” Shale said, and she decided to tune out of this conversation.

“He certainly does,” Zevran replied.

“I watched many such couplings during the time I spent immobile in Honnleath,” Shale snorted, “or should I say I was forced to watch… you do know that this usually ends in reproduction. I have seen it many times, indeed.”

“Oh? That is not such a terrible thought. Creating a new life can be a great deal of fun,” Zevran replied, “granted, the woman would have to allow me to touch her but it is fun enough to imagine.”

“So you say… I have no idea how a golem is created,” Shale replied, “but I doubt I shall be creating one anytime soon.”

“Just as well, I imagine,” Zevran replied, “any lover of yours would no doubt be quickly reduced to a puddle of bruises.”

“So you see me winning the affection of another golem, do you?” Shale asked, “most golems are slaves to whomever holds their control rod.”

“Funny, it works exactly the same way for us as well,” Zevran replied, “isn’t that right, my good friend Alistair?”

“Kalli, do something about him!” Alistair sputtered.

“Why me?” she groaned, “why does everyone ask _me_ to do something about him?”

“Isn’t it because you have his control rod?” Leliana asked.

“Do I?” she asked with a sigh.

“Well, if you would like it, yes,” Zevran purred.

“Wait, what does that even _mean?”_ she asked, “people don’t have control rods.”

“Kalli… have you been paying attention to the conversation?” Alistair asked.

“Not especially,” she replied waving her sleeve around, “why? What’d I miss?”

“…Nothing, never mind,” Alistair replied, “don’t worry about it.”

“Ah… did Zealously Zesty Zevran strike again?” she asked.

“Yes,” Leliana replied.

“Ah… so then by control rod…” she replied and then sighed shaking her head, “I see… I do not, in fact, have his control rod.”

“What have you been thinking about?” Wynne asked.

“Nothing spectacular, I’m afraid,” she replied, “sorry to disappoint, Worldly Wise Wynne.”

“Does the Superior Warden have an alliterate name for me?” Shale asked.

“Of course I do, Shiny Stalwart Shale,” she answered.

“Ohhh, I do like that,” Shale replied.

“Glad you approve,” she beamed.

They were about to enter the forest, and she was a little concerned… Hopefully, they won’t think she’s an Elven servant or something.

“Hold, outsider,” an Elven woman said stopping them, “you may be of my kind, but you are not Dalish. Why are you here?”

“Sorry, hold on,” she replied noticing two familiar idiots behind her, “Edwyn and Jinan!”

“Oh… Creators, the world’s actually ending,” Edwyn said immediately going pale.

“Well, I’m glad to see you’re still alive,” she sighed, “Taeodor was worried, last I saw.”

“Do you know her?” the Elven Woman asked.

“Yeah, she’s from the Denerim Alienage,” Jinan answered, “but everyone in the Alienage knows that the day Kalli’s allowed to leave the Alienage is the day the world ends.”

“Wait… where’s Shianni?” Edwyn asked.

“Home, probably,” she answered.

“Whoa… I didn’t think the Fire Sisters could be separated,” Jinan said in shock.

“I didn’t either,” she sighed.

“Wait… so what are you doing here?” Edwyn asked.

“The Grey Wardens got to me,” she answered.

“Oh… then you mean…” Jinan trailed off.

“Yeah.”

“Mithra,” Edwyn said, “I know she kinda looks like an Elven servant with a bunch of Humans but her skill’s the real deal… She all but ruled over the back alleys of Denerim.”

“Wait, you what?” Alistair asked.

“Screwing with scum is fun,” she replied, “especially when it leads to culling their numbers.”

“What do you consider ‘scum’?” Wynne asked.

“Rapists, molesters, slavers, drug dealers,” she replied counting off her fingers, “smugglers were okay as long as they didn’t go too far, gangs too.”

“Is that why we kept getting discounts?” Alistair asked, “and why everyone kept calling you a ‘treasured existence’?”

“Yeppers,” she replied snapping her fingers into a thumbs up.

“Then you are here on Grey Warden business?” Mithra asked.

“That we are,” she nodded.

“I will bring you to the Keeper, then,” Mithra replied, “and he can decide if your business is worthwhile.”

“We found out another of Kalli’s secrets,” Alistair said as they followed Mithra.

“You, may have,” Morrigan replied, “but three of us already knew that one.”

“Wait, what?” Alistair asked.

“I didn’t want you judging me,” she replied, “…for eliminating groups of people via the manipulation method… not all my tricks are playful.”

“A Trio of Tricksters,” Alistair said, “we have a Trio of Tricksters.”

Wait, this feeling… Was she Japanese again? Despite being full Japanese, they also considered her a foreigner because she wasn’t from Japan. Come to think of it, they were also people proud of their heritage and also didn’t want foreigners to live there…

She was Japanese again.

Holy shit.

Well, actually, Japan preserved their old ways far better than the Elves did, and did a fantastic job at marrying their traditions with the modern world and…

Holy shit her Japanese Pride from her past life was showing up.

Even if she wasn’t Japan Japanese, she was still proud of her heritage.

This is weird.

Then again, Japan was kind of isolated in that it was more or less an island nation, and thus far harder to invade… The Huns tried but kept going during typhoon season. Which was good news, because Japan built a fucking five-foot wall to keep the Huns out. Like ‘Hey those guys who scaled the Great Wall of China are invading… so let’s build a wall… about this high.’. What the fuck, guys?

Oh, she needs to get her diplomat face on.

“Hmm… I see we have guests,” their Keeper said.

Diana began barking angrily.

“And a hound amongst them,” the Keeper scoffed at Diana, “as if we haven’t had enough problems with such creatures.”

“Oi, Chi-chan, _yamete _,” she said without thinking.__

…Oops, she was thinking about Japan and her past life… Whelp, time to pretend that that never happened. If she reacted, then they’d pay closer attention to it.

Ah, well, at least she backed down.

“Who are these strangers, Mithra?” the Keeper sighed, “I have precious little patience and less time to spend on outsiders today.”

“They are Grey Wardens, and wished to speak with the clan,” Mithra replied before gesturing to her, “Edwyn and Jinan recognized this one, and I thought it best to leave the decision to you.”

“That was wise of you,” the Keeper replied, “ _ma serannas_ , Mithra, you may return to your post.”

“ _Ma nuvenin,_ Keeper,” Mithra replied.

“Now, allow me to introduce myself. I am Zathrian, the Keeper of this clan, it’s guide and preserver of our ancient lore,” Zathrian said, “and you are?”

“My name is Kallian, and I come from the same Alienage as Edwyn and Jinan, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” she replied with a polite bow, “thank you for taking care of them, and I hope you continue to do so in the future as well.”

“How polite,” Zathrian replied seemingly taken aback, “if you came to bring news of the Blight in the south, it is not needed. I had already sensed its corruption. I would have taken the clan north by now, had we the ability to move. Sadly, as you can see, we do not.”

“Yes, we’ve heard rumors about the Werewolves that have been attacking your clan,” Alistair replied.

“Yes… I imagine you are here regarding the treaty we signed centuries ago,” Zathrian replied, “unfortunately, we may not be able to live up to the promise we made. This might require some additional explanation… please follow me.”

He led them to what she guessed was their med bay… Elves were laying on cots groaning in pain.

“The clan came to the Brecilian Forest about five months ago, as is our custom when we enter this part of Ferelden,” Zathrian explained, “we are always wary of the dangers in the forest, but we did not expect the Werewolves would be lying in wait for us. They… ambushed us, and though we drove the beasts back, much damage was done. Many of our warriors lie dying as we speak. Even with all our magic and healing skill, we will eventually be forced to slay our brethren to prevent them from becoming beasts… The Blight’s evil must be stopped, but we are in no position to uphold our obligations. I am truly sorry.”

“Why did they attack you?” Alistair asked, “do you know?”

“They are savage and unrelenting, they need no reason to attack anyone, what is curious, however, is the ambush,” Zathrian replied, “we expect Werewolves to be no more cunning than a rabid wolf. The ambush suggests a level of intelligence we’ve never seen before.”

Her instincts were telling her that he was hiding something. What that was, however, she didn’t know.

“Maybe they aren’t as unintelligent as you think,” she replied, “wolves are rather smart and good at working in teams.”

“I doubt that,” Zathrian replied, “the very curse that is in their blood fills them with an unreasoning rage that precludes any true thought.”

He knows a lot about this curse.

“Thought isn’t always necessary when instinct and reflex can take over,” she replied a hand to her chin in thought, “wolves hunt in a divide and conquer method, and it’s not something taught, it’s something born instinctual, and then tempered with experience.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” Alistair said teasingly, “since you’re practically a wild animal.”

“Yeah, sure,” she replied, “is there something that can be done?”

“The affliction is a curse that runs rampant in their blood, bringing great agony and then ultimately either death or a transformation into something monstrous,” Zathrian explained, “the only thing that could help them must come from the source of the curse itself, and that… that would be no trivial task to retrieve.”

“I’m good at those,” she replied, “not only that, but I can’t just allow people to suffer like this, doing so would be an insult to the person I am.”

Or was, anyway.

“I see… within the Brecilian Forest dwells a great wolf— we call him Witherfang. It was within him that the curse originated and through his blood that it has been spread,” Zathrian said, “if he is killed and his heart brought to me, perhaps I could destroy the curse. But this task has proven too dangerous for us. I sent some hunters into the forest a week ago, but they have not returned. I cannot risk any more of my clan.”

There it was.

The great question: How do they know that the curse originated from the blood of Witherfang? There are ways for them to know, but those ways would require someone to either have been there during the start of the curse and witnessed it, or been involved in the creation of the curse.

This will require some digging.

“You said you could ‘perhaps’ destroy the curse?” she asked.

“There is no guarantee that this will work as I suspect,” Zathrian replied, “but it’s the only hope we have left.”

“I see, then I can only see one path forward,” she replied.

“I must warn you that more than Werewolves lurk in the Brecilian Forest. It has a history full of carnage and murder, you see,” Zathrian replied, “where there is so much death, the Veil separating the spirit realm from our own becomes thin, allowing spirits to possess things, living or dead.”

“She punched a Sloth Demon in the face in the Fade,” Alistair said, “for making her angry… I think we’ll be okay.”

“Then if you can indeed help,” Zathrian replied, “then I wish you luck.”

“Actually,” she said, “do you mind if I ask you some questions?”

“Make them quick, if you please,” Zathrian replied, “I have much to do, here. My apprentice, Lanaya, or Sarel, the clan’s storyteller, could provide you with answers just as easily.”

“Ah, then I will ask them so that you may continue to help your people,” she replied.

“Yes, Creators’ speed on your way,” Zathrian replied.

“Edwyn, yes?” she heard Zevran say from somewhere nearby, prompting her to turn and look.

“Yeah, what of it?” Edwyn asked.

“Why has no one gone after her before?” Zevran asked.

“Kalli?” Jinan asked, “isn’t it because Shianni chased everyone away?”

“Yeah, she was always like ‘She’s mine! She’s MY cousin, you can’t have her!’ and stuff,” Edwyn nodded.

“Wait… seriously?” she asked in shock

“It figures you wouldn’t know,” Jinan replied, “she always did it behind your back, and made sure you were busy doing other things when she did it.”

“She and Soris used to argue about which one of them you liked the most,” Edwyn stated, “how did those arguments go again? ‘It’s ME! She loves ME the most!’ and stuff.”

“Seriously?” she asked.

“Yeah, Shianni was always like ‘you’re not good enough for her’ too,” Jinan nodded.

“Thinking about it, isn’t Kalli kind of like Mythal?” Edwyn asked.

“What?” she tilted her head to the side.

“Mythal, the All-Mother, and Protector,” Jinan explained, “she’s the patron of motherhood and justice.”

“Yeah, you were considered the protector of the Alienage,” Edwyn nodded, “when there’s trouble everyone knew to go to you because you’ll figure it out.”

“Huh…” she replied, “I guess that explains all the times I’ve heard the words ‘Kalli! HELP!’… I’m going to go talk to Sarel.”

She had a feeling that the only one who actually knew anything about the Werewolves was Zathrian, and because of that, asking anyone else about it would likely yield no answers. Especially if he controlled the flow of information about them. However, the Werewolves were denizens of the forest, so perhaps asking about the forest will yield better answers.

“We few wanderers greet you, friend,” who she guessed was Sarel said, “we do not see many of our city brethren here in the woods… Would you help us break our fast?”

“I think I would like that,” she replied noting Edwyn and Jinan fretting about stupidly.

“Come, then, and sit, join us by the fire,” Sarel replied gesturing them to sit, “I am Sarel, the clan’s tale-teller. I understand you are venturing into the haunted forest to save our hunters?”

“My name is Kallian, a pleasure to meet you,” she replied, “but yes, we will be.”

“I suspect your efforts may be in vain,” Sarel replied, “an entire group of our hunters went into the forest to do as you intend, and they have not returned.”

“Yes… Zathrian mentioned as much,” she replied sadly.

“Then you are very brave to adventure into such a place even knowing the danger that awaits!” Sarel said sarcastically, “your courage impresses us greatly!”

“Have we done something to deserve this treatment?” she asked while shooting a warning look at Alistair, Edwyn, Jinan, Zevran, and Morrigan, knowing full well that all of them had a sarcastic comment or two stuck in their throats, “if so, then I apologize.”

“Perhaps you have not, but you are an outsider,” Sarel replied, “and that we must rely on your largesse is a bitter pill for us to swallow.”

“You are being most unkind, Sarel,” one of the Elves around the fire said chastised, “would you refuse our hunters help simply because of the hand that offered it?”

“You shame me, _lethallan_. I have allowed my bitterness to cloud my better judgment,” Sarel sighed, “forgive me Grey Wardens, it is most difficult to forget the lessons these _shemlen_ have taught us.”

“It is even more difficult when you live amongst them,” Zevran replied dryly, “trust me.”

Whoa, he really feels strongly about that. She could tell because when he feels strongly about something, he had a tendency to roll his ‘r’s extra hard… 

She’d never admit it out loud, but she thought it was kind of hot.

“It really is,” she sighed.

“Perhaps I can yet make amends,” Sarel replied, “stay while I spin a tale for our children and then I will tell you of the forest, if you desire.”

“As long as I don’t have to worry about any sarcastic comments flying my way,” she replied, “I think I’d like that.”

“Come and join us, then, all of you,” Sarel replied, “now, what say we tell the story of the fall of the Dales? Which of you children knows that best?”

The Fall of the Dales… huh? Great. A story of genocide.

“I… I think I do,” a Child said.

“Yes? Then come, child,” Sarel said gesturing for the Child, “don’t be frightened of the outsiders. Now… where do you suppose such a tale should begin?”

“When we were slaves?” the Child asked.

“Yes… Long ago, our people were slaves to an empire the _shemlen_ had built on the darkest magic. They took away our history and our language and left us nothing,” Sarel replied, “and then that empire fell… And we were freed.”

She kept her poker face on, but inside, she was reeling.

“Because Andraste came with her army and Shartan joined her!” the Child said excitedly.

“Yes, Andraste, the _shemlen_ prophet, came out of the south and challenged the Tevinter Imperium, and our ancestor, Shartan, fought at her side, and when the rebellion came to an end, we were given a new homeland in the west: the Dales,” Sarel nodded, “we began to rebuild the culture and history we had lost in our years of slavery. We worshiped the Creators and made the Dales our home. Perhaps you know what happened next, Kallian? Do you know what happened to the Dales?”

“Naturally,” she replied, “the genocidal Chantry launched a vicious war campaign against them in the name of religion. Granted, their mistake was probably that they isolated themselves. For fledgling nations, one of the most important things to establish are diplomatic relations. The world has a tendency to view things with too much secrecy as ‘bad’ and therefore ‘needing to be eradicated’. Well, I can’t blame the Elves of the Dales for wanting nothing to do with Humans after their experiences as well… Still, it was a very fatal and tragic misstep. A bit of transparency is necessary in things, especially if you need to worry about the world launching a crusade against others. At that point it was probably easy for the Humans to simply kill everyone, having, at that point, split Elves and Humans into an us, or them situation. Ah, well, we can’t change the past, mya.”

“…As expected of the person who should have been the Denerim Alienage’s next Elder,” Edwyn said.

“Elder?” Alistair asked.

“The administrator for the Alienage, and their liaison with the rest of the city,” Jinan explained, “she would have handled Elven-Human disputes… old age isn’t really a requirement.”

“When dealing with others in that manner, diplomacy is key,” she replied, “sure, there may be people who would march anyway, but you win no allies by isolating yourself like that… Not only that, but when it truly comes down to it, racism, discrimination, and such is something taught. No one’s born simply hating other groups of people. It’s taught. Something like that can be learned in a single day, and then take years to unlearn.”

“We believed that the _shemlen_ would not revoke their prophet’s gift so lightly,” Sarel sighed, “we were wrong, they took our lands, forcing us to abandon our gods and live as beggars in _shemlen_ cities.”

“You should have fought,” Sten said, “you should have fought to the last of you. Better that than submit.”

“Oh? Is it not the Qunari way to force others to submit?” Sarel asked, “surely that would not be your advice to my people were they attacked by the mighty Qunari.”

“That would be different,” Sten replied, “the Qunari would improve your people. The Humans have improved nothing.”

“Perhaps,” Sarel replied, “even so, many of us did fight. We fought and we lost.”

“Why’s everybody gotta be so genocidal?” she sighed in exasperation, “what would the price of that improvement be? Some things just aren’t worth it. A willful cat would die under the Qun.”

“The Qun would not execute you,” Sten replied, “they would re-educate you.”

“Yep, I would die,” she replied, “maybe not physically, but I would die spiritually. The person I am would cease to exist, and honestly? I’d rather physically die than allow that to happen.”

“There were those of us who refused to abandon our ways,” Sarel said, “they emblazoned the symbols of the Creators upon their flesh and vowed to keep their ancient lore alive.”

“That’s us!” the Child said excitedly, “that’s the Dalish!”

“Indeed, child. We chose to wander, homeless, rather than be ruled by the _shemlen_ ,” Sarel nodded, “and all our clans wander alone until the day we have a homeland once more.”

“Then we bring the old ways back to our people,” the Child replied, “because they have forgotten it all.”

She didn’t want to bring up the fact that it’s easier to keep old traditions and ways alive if you marry them with modern stuff.

“For we are the Dalish: the Keepers of the Lost Lore,” Sarel nodded again.

“The Walkers of the Lonely Path…” the Woman from earlier added.

“We are the _Elvhenan_ ,” the Man sitting next to her said, “and never again shall we submit.”

“And that is the tale of the Dales, Kallian,” Sarel finished, “thank you for allowing us to tell it to you.”

“Thank you for telling it,” she replied, “I think my family has an heirloom dagger from the time of the Dales, though I haven’t seen it since I was a child… I’m sure my Father probably hid it under some floorboards for safekeeping… seems like something he’d do.”

“I see… now, as I said I would, I can tell you what I know of the Brecilian Forest,” Sarel nodded, “do you wish to hear it?”

“Please,” she nodded.

“Our legends say that before the _shemlen_ came, the Brecilian Forest was a place of our ancestors that predated even our oldest homeland,” Sarel explained, “the people of the Imperium came here and gave the forest its name. If they found traces of our ancestors, we cannot say… If they did, those Elves were slain or enslaved. We know only that a great many battles were fought here; these trees grow upon the graves of those who fell— _shemlen_ and Elves both.”

“And those battles tore the Veil,” she replied.

The cites of mass murders were always said to hold the memories of the fallen, even in her old world.

“Indeed, very wise of you, there was so much death that the Veil into the Beyond was torn,” Sarel nodded, “the _shemlen_ know the Beyond as ‘the Fade’, the place of dreams and spirits. When the Veil is torn, spirits pass into our world freely. The legends say that one great spirit possessed the wolf that became Witherfang, who passed its curse of rage onto men and created Werewolves.”

“And Witherfang still exists today?” she asked.

“So Zathrian insists. He says that Witherfang does not age as the Werewolves do… Witherfang is as much spirit as it is beast, and thus it is immortal… Perhaps it cannot even be slain. At the very least, it is old and powerful, much as Zathrian himself.”

Zathrian was connected to this curse, she was sure of it now.

Now the question was: how?

Was it something he witnessed? Or did he cause it?

“How many Werewolves are here, do you think?” she asked.

“No one knows, when the _shemlen_ lived in these parts, the curse would spread anew to a few of them with each passing year. They would run off into the forest, never to be seen again. Eventually, all the _shemlen_ left… One assumes the Werewolves survive by passing their curse to their offspring. They have no new blood… until now, that is.”

“I see… there are many spirits here, in the forest, right?” she asked.

“The forest is said to be haunted. Spirits possess the trees, the wolves, even the bodies of the dead… they yearn for true life, you see.”

“There were battles in the forest?”

“Who can say what value the Imperium placed on this land? And how many Elves died here in slavery? Even the barbarians who came to overthrow the Imperium fought and died on this soil.”

“Alright, thank you,” she said, “that’s all I needed to know.”

“One last warning: the forest is like a thing alive,” Sarel warned, “it changes as it wills, closing paths behind you and opening up new ones… Too many have become lost within, unable to find their way out. Were I you, I would endeavor not to make the forest my enemy.”

“Thank you,” she replied, “I will keep that in mind… Actually, there was one more thing I wanted to ask you… Have you ever heard of an Elf named Aneirin?”

“I… I appreciate you trying to find him,” Wynne replied, “but what are the chances—”

“Aneirin the Healer?” Sarel asked.

“You… know Aneirin?” the Woman from earlier asked.

“He… he lives?” Wynne asked in shock, “no, it can’t be him… perhaps it is a common Elven name…”

“No, I know of only one Aneirin,” the Woman replied.

“I haven’t heard that name before, either,” she nodded.

“Ah, it makes sense! Aneirin said that he was from the Human cities,” Sarel replied, “you are old friends, then?”

“Wynne is,” she replied before turning to her, “I told you there was no harm in asking.”

“If you seek Aneirin, you must venture into the forest,” the Woman stated, “he prefers to be amidst the trees and the animals.”

“Thank you all so much,” Wynne replied.

*** 

  
So the reason why no one had pursued his Warden was because of her cousin’s meddling. Perhaps he should consider himself lucky that he met her outside of the Alienage, since her cousin would most definitely not consider him good enough for her, and would have chased him away.

He’s decided: he’ll tell her about Rinna once this business with the Dalish gets wrapped up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Tao Te Ching Chapter Twenty-Two_   
>  _Yamete _\- Stop__


	37. How the Cat Entered the Brecilian Forest

She wondered how Alistair and the others were doing.

According to Kallian’s estimates, they should be in the Brecilian Forest about now… Though, she had no idea what they planned to do about the Werewolf problem, though she had no doubt that Kallian would be able to figure something out. She was good at that: thinking her way out of any situation that arose. Which was one of the reasons that made her the ultimate trump card, and incredibly dangerous.

Allies of the Cousland’s were skeptical about her survival, and she had to meet with many of them. Arl Eamon was meeting with his own as well, business around Redcliffe was picking up as nobles came to meet with them to learn what had happened straight from them, since sending letters wouldn’t cut it. Messages could be easily intercepted.

Still, she couldn’t help but be a little worried, and a tiny bit lonely, considering that both of her two favorite people were busy on the other side of Ferelden.

She still missed her family, and she still planned on taking revenge against Howe, but… the pain was beginning to ease. She had someone she loved now, and someone she loved like a sister…

She wanted to protect the family she had now, and would fight to ensure it.

***

Honestly, at current, she was waiting for someone to call her out on the fact that she spoke a different language just then. Hopefully, she could bullshit her way out of it if anyone brought it up. They’d definitely think she had gotten herself possessed by some random demon, and that would be all sorts of shitty. Well, it’s not like she’s never slipped up before, though those times, she could generally immediately yawn and pretend she had no control of the nonsense that tumbled out of her mouth. Her last slip up was a Hawaiian word, a few years ago… She’d accidentally said _mahalo_ when thanking someone for something because she was thinking about Hawai’i.

She really missed Japanese cuisine in times like these.

Well, they should probably spend the rest of the day here, and head into the forest in the morning. She wasn’t really keen on spending more time in a haunted forest then necessary. For now… She should talk to Lanaya, as well…

Just a few feet away from Sarel, she saw someone looking incredibly despondent, and she was a little worried. Did someone he loved get killed during the attacks? She’ll talk to him after she talks to Lanaya.

“ _Andaran atish’an_ , Grey Warden,” Lanaya said in greeting, “my name is Lanaya, and I am Zathrian’s First… what you might call an apprentice, perhaps… I have been studying under the Keeper all my life.”

“My name is Kallian,” she replied with a polite bow, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I am… a bit curious of the outside world,” Lanaya said, “do you mind if I ask you a question or two?”

“Go ahead,” she replied deciding to keep her smart ass comment to herself… the one she usually punished Shianni with.

“I hear the Human cities are very large: thousands upon thousands of souls all packed together in their houses,” Lanaya replied thoughtfully, “is that true?”

“Yes… some of them are even larger than the eye can see,” she replied.

“How very loud that must be, with everyone talking all at once,” Lanaya replied, “I try to imagine those of our people living in such a place, surrounded by walls of stone and indifference. It… is a difficult thought.”

“All my favorite people were in one place, so it was pretty great,” she replied, “not only that, but I liked to climb the buildings so that I could stargaze… sometimes I liked to simply watch people go about their day, imagining what kind of lives they led… Sure life was hard, but honestly, life is hard wherever you live it.”

“Being accustomed to pain and suffering does not make it any less tragic,” Lanaya replied.

“I didn’t really think of it as particularly painful and tragic,” she replied tilting her head to the side.

“It’s times like these,” Alistair said, “where I really begin to feel how different our versions of normal are.”

“It is said that one day, we will have a land of our own,” Lanaya said, “we Dalish gather the ancient wisdom in preparation for this… When that day comes, all Elves— even those who have forgotten— will reclaim their former glory.”

“Just remember to properly establish diplomatic relations next time,” she stated, “every race in Thedas is sharing the same land… I’d really prefer to do so peacefully.”

“Can you really just forgive the Humans for everything?” Lanaya asked.

“Someone has to,” she shrugged, “I’ve never particularly hated Humans to begin with. People are more than their races. Not only that but personally, I think that anger and hatred are pretty useless… They trap people in the past, and in order to move forward, we need to let them go.”

“I see… I have one more question, though I’m not sure you can answer it,” Lanaya replied, “do the Humans… ever regret… what they did to us?”

“I can answer that,” Leliana said speaking up, “I… before I’d met Kalli… I didn’t… I was ignorant about the struggles not only Elves but also mages faced… I didn’t know about how genocidal the Chantry could really be, I did not even think that the Chantry was genocidal… Kalli sees things as they are in their entirety, and isn’t afraid to share her opinions on them… after the Blight, I would like to return to the Chantry and help bring attention to these things. It will not be easy, but I think that leaving things as they are is inexcusable.”

It’s not the first time she’s heard about land wrongfully taken away from people. Hawai’i was like that too, they didn’t want to be part of the U.S., they were forced into it because of resources… Though that one was probably more tragic, it was taken because they had resources the U.S. wanted, and not only that but their last monarch had been put under house arrest… It pained her, but she’d signed her sovereignty away to the U.S. because she feared for the lives of her people. People who lived in Hawai’i always knew that part of their history, and they were always pretty open about it. If someone doesn’t talk about it, it’ll just be forgotten.

“Where ignorance is our master,” she recounted, “there is no possibility of real peace.”

“I think… I’m beginning to see why Edwyn and Jinan think that you are similar to Mythal,” Lanaya remarked, “perhaps you have some questions of your own?”

“There’s no way I can be similar to an Elven goddess,” she replied before asking, “what can you tell me about Zathrian?”

“Nothing that you could not ask Zathrian himself,” Lanaya answered, “he is the Keeper of this clan and has been for a very long time… He is also a very good man who has lost much… the Dalish are everything to him, and he would do anything to protect them.”

“I see…” she replied, “well, that’s all I really wanted to know… we’ll be heading into the forest first thing in the morning. Thank you for your time.”

“No, thank you,” Lanaya replied, “for helping us in our time of need.”

She walked away remembering the man she’d seen before and decided to check on him.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Er… hello?” the Man replied uneasily.

“There’s no reason to be afraid,” she replied soothingly.

“I’m sorry, I’m not used to dealing with outsiders… th—though we do get people like you from time to time,” the Man replied, “Elves from the city, I mean… Like Edwyn and Jinan.”

“Yes… those two,” she sighed shaking her head in exasperation, “in any case, my name is Kallian.”

“I am Cammen, a hunter apprentice,” Cammen replied introducing himself, “though I wish I could become a real hunter.”

“Why can’t you?” she asked tilting her head to the side.

So, it wasn’t that someone he cared for died during the attacks.

“I… shouldn’t be talking about this to an outsider,” Cammen sighed, “you wouldn’t understand.”

“Well, I definitely won’t understand if you don’t tell me,” she replied wryly.

“Just tell her,” Edwyn said patting Cammen on the shoulder before walking away, “everyone in the Alienage knows to go to Kalli ‘coz she’ll figure something out.”

“Then I… suppose there’s no harm in it,” Cammen replied, “it’s not like you can help me.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she replied.

“I’ve been an apprentice for too long, to become a true hunter, I must bring back the pelt of a beast I killed myself,” Cammen replied, “a boar, or a wolf… or something… I wanted to hunt in the forest, but we’re forbidden to enter because of the attack. But… the real problem is Gheyna.”

“Ah, girl problems, then,” she replied hitting her palm with her fist.

“Ah! If it’s women, then I—” Zevran began.

“No,” she replied cutting him off.

“Why not?” Zevran asked.

“Because I already know what you’re going to say, you’re gonna make him uncomfortable by saying something lewd,” she replied, “so, who’s Gheyna?”

“She’s my heart’s desire… I have asked for her hand, but she cruelly refuses it,” Cammen replied, “she will not bond with an apprentice, she says, and calls me a child… I am no child! If I were a hunter, I could prove it, but I cannot hunt and… and Gheyna will never bond with me!”

“WHOA! Whoa whoa whoa, if she says no, then no means no,” she said holding up a hand to stop him and then noting his crestfallen face she sighed, “tell you what, I’ll go talk to her, and see what your chances actually are. If it’s a total no, then I’m going to need you to accept your loss.”

“I… I will,” Cammen replied with a downcast face.

“But I’ll do what I can,” she sighed again, “it can’t hurt.”

“Really? _Serannas!_ Oh, _ma serannas!_ ” Cammen replied, “I will pray to the goddess of love that you are successful then!”

She walked towards Gheyna, hopefully, it wasn’t a complete lost cause, but she’ll make sure he gets a firm rejection if it is… To be honest, she didn’t blame his frustration. In her past life, she was never good enough, she had never been good enough. Though in her case, the one she wasn’t good enough for, was herself. She was never good enough for herself. She had never been strong enough, skilled enough, smart enough for herself, and so she was continuously letting herself down when she couldn’t reach perfection… 

Honestly, it was part of the reason why she had learned so much: it was because she had never seen herself as good enough.

Also because her attention span was so incredibly short, that she’d have a burst of determination to be the best in that one thing, and then get bored of it…

Life’s hard when your attention span is practically nonexistent and you’re a perfectionist.

Thankfully, she wasn’t that bad in this life.

“ _Andaran atish’an_ , outsider,” Gheyna said.

“Greetings,” she replied, “you are Gheyna, yes? Cammen mentioned you.”

“You… spoke to him?” Gheyna asked almost excitedly, “what did he say?”

Ah-ha, so it wasn’t a lost cause… It was literally because he hadn’t passed his test yet.

“Simply that you refuse to give him your hand,” she replied

“Oh… I don’t expect an outsider to understand our ways, but… I just can’t bond with Cammen,” Gheyna replied, “he’s been a hunter apprentice for over two years now, and he’s yet to slay a proper beast. Each time he’s tried, something has gone wrong. Perhaps the Creators do not wish us to bond. I cannot bond with an apprentice hunter, can I?”

“Why not?” she asked tilting her head to the side, “if you love him it shouldn’t matter, right?”

“But… what if he never becomes a proper hunter?” Gheyna asked, “what will become of our family.”

“…One of the things about being married is that you share each other's burdens,” she sighed, “were it me, I’d probably just decide to simply be strong enough for the both of us. In my opinion, I’d much rather a relationship where we support each other, sharing the ups and downs of life together… Don’t you think sharing experiences and overcoming hardships together is more worthwhile than simply relying on him for everything, nya?”

“You… you are right,” Gheyna replied, “as a woman, I should be supporting him… making sure he believes in himself… All I’ve done is make him miserable… I know I cannot be like you, both woman and Grey Warden. But I can be formidable in my own small way, can’t I? _Ma serannas_ — thank you… you have helped me put this into perspective. I will go and speak to Cammen.”

She felt like Gheyna totally missed the mark, but whatever.

“Cammen, I have been a fool,” Gheyna said running up to him.

“Gheyna? What do you mean?” Cammen asked, “h—have you changed your mind?”

“I have… the outsider has helped me see that I was wrong,” Gheyna replied, “I have made you miserable and I should not have.”

“But… what about my hunt?” Cammen asked.

“I don’t care about that,” Gheyna replied with a sigh, “I know that you will pass your hunt in time, and we will be happy, us and our children.”

“Thank you, Gheyna,” Cammen replied, “you’ve made me a happy man, I feel blessed by the gods today.”

They shared a kiss, and she looked away, not wanting to intrude on the moment.

“We are both very grateful for the part you’ve played in bringing us together,” Cammen said.

“How marvelous you are!” Gheyna nodded, “I am so happy!”

“This is wonderful!” Leliana said happily, “young love, allowed to flourish!”

“Here… take this… it’s been in my family for a very long time, but,” Cammen said offering her a… book, “I hope it plays some part in your battle against the Darkspawn. It’s the very least we could do.”

“Thank you,” she replied accepting the tome, and then watching them leave.

Well, helping people with their loves was always an interest of hers… Just because _she’s_ suffering, doesn’t mean others should have to. 

Though… 

She also…

Wanted…

A thousand things that don’t matter. 

Because fantasies like those have no place in the life she lives now.

She will end the Blight with her life.

Maybe… maybe she should get angry, reject him harshly, make him leave. Insult his everything.

She didn’t want to, but she should. She’s thought so many times, but the words get stuck in her throat because she didn’t want to hurt him. He’s been through enough, he shouldn’t have to listen to biting words that she didn’t mean spill from her lips.

And she _knew_.

She knew he was trying to figure out her secrets, trying to figure out why she wanted to die. Trying to find out a way to stop her… She knew he wouldn’t leave, that he would call her bluff, that there was probably nothing she could say to get rid of him. Which made those biting words even harder to say, because she knew they’d be ineffective. But he didn’t know, he didn’t know how to end the Blight, he didn’t know that there was no salvation for her. No saving her. She was damned. In the long run, all she did was bring suffering, misery, and pain. The world would be better off without her.

So she’ll just continue to bottle these feelings up, what she wanted didn’t matter, anyway. It had never mattered. The ability to make her own choices, taken from her at the most important moments of her life. Her future was stolen from her twice in the span of a few hours, both times by Human men… But still, she knew that not all men were like that, not all Humans were like that. 

And she loved more than she hated.

***

Kallian was doing what Kallian does best:

Soothing peoples woes, and giving them hope.

Kallian was good for that, she’d make a fantastic noble, especially since he’d probably need a strong ally. Not only that, but she seemed to have a strong grasp on diplomacy and its importance. She’d demonstrated as much while talking about the fall of the Dales, being able to accurately pinpoint the problem, and why it went wrong while also backing up her observation of it with logic. They’d need someone capable of soothing peoples pain once they ended the Blight, something Kallian was more than an expert in.

Though she could be a little eccentric at times.

“I greet you, stranger, my name is Athras… It is good to see another Elf, even if you are not one of the wandering clans,” an Elf said greeting Kallian, “I trust my people have not been too harsh in their treatment of you?”

“My name is Kallian, a pleasure to meet you, and I don’t mind,” Kallian replied, “I understand… it’s only natural to be suspicious of outsiders… Especially when they’re accompanied by Humans.”

“That is very generous of you… Most would assume we are unkind as a rule, and that is not the case… especially not to a Grey Warden, but we have lost much, and it is easy to forget simple niceties at such a time,” Athras replied, “I understand you will search for the wolves in the Brecilian Forest. I would join you, but Zathrian has… forbidden me.”

“Forbidden you?” he asked.

“We are banned from entering the forest now,” Athras answered, “I have… more cause than most, but I will not disobey my Keeper.”

“Why do you want to enter the forest?” Kallian asked.

“I suppose there’s no harm in telling a fellow Elf,” Athras replied, “but surely you have greater concerns than any problem of mine, no?”

“Well, we’re going in the forest, tomorrow morning,” Kallian replied, “so if there’s something you need, perhaps we could help.”

“Well, perhaps you could help me with it… I would certainly appreciate anything you could do,” Athras replied, “my wife, Danyla, and I both fought the Werewolves in the ambush. She was injured so gravely the curse spread rapidly in her… Zathrian fought hard to ease her pain, but there was little he could do. And though he says Danyla is dead, he will not let me see her… her body… I am beginning to believe she became a werewolf, and that it is being kept from me so I do not go chasing after her. If I could just… know if Danyla is alive, or what happened to her… then I could be at peace.”

“We’ll seek her out while we’re in the forest,” Kallian said soothingly.

“I have an amulet made by our craftsmen,” Athras replied, “it’s not much but I would be happy to give it to you in return for any news.”

Kallian was already wandering off to go talk to the Dalish crafter.

“Sooooooooo, Wynne,” he said, “what would you do if someone told you that they loved you?”

“Check their eyesight first, perhaps,” Wynne replied, “is this someone I should know about?”

“No, I mean,” he sighed, “pretend you’re a woman.”

“I am a woman, Alistair,” Wynne sighed, “that shouldn’t be too hard, but I’ll give it a try.”

“Ahhhh, that’s… not what I meant,” he replied, “just… pretend you’re another woman. And someone told you that they loved you. How would you react?”

“Well, that depends,” Wynne asked, “does this someone just blurt it out? Do I love them back? I need context.”

“I… I don’t know if you love them back,” he replied, “maybe you do… you’ve… spent a lot of time with this person…”

“Perhaps you need to wait for the right moment?” Wynne asked.

“Oh— I—” he sputtered and finally a cacophony of laughter spilled forth, courtesy of Kallian.

So much that she ended up on the ground.

“Never— I am NEVER letting you live this down,” Kallian cackled, “I can’t believe you— nyaaaaaaaaahahahahaha!”

“Kalli, what would you do if someone told you they loved you?” he asked, he had already dug his grave.

“What kind of love are we talking about here?” Kallian asked wiping tears from her eyes, “platonic? Romantic? Friends? Family? Lovers? There are many kinds of love, Ali-butt.”

“You know what? Forget I said anything,” he replied.

“But, I think she feels the same,” Kallian replied with a soft smile, “so don’t worry about it, yeah?”

“You do?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Kallian nodded, “just do it when it feels natural to you. Don’t force it.”

***

His Warden went to go soothe one of the halla, and he kept catching those two Elven boys, Edwyn, and Jinan, throwing glances in her direction. It was clear that her cousin’s meddling had kept her completely oblivious to her own appeal. Had everyone in her past wanted her at one point or another? Or even still?

He didn’t blame them, but it still annoyed him.

“Was she very popular in the Alienage?” he asked Jinan.

“Kalli?” Jinan asked, “you’d be hard-pressed to find someone who didn’t have a thing for her at one point or another.”

“Though, practically everyone was sure that there was something going on between her and Alarith,” Edwyn added, “she spent an entire year bothering him practically every day.”

“They both denied that anything was going on between them, though,” Jinan nodded, “but out of all the men in the Alienage, besides her family, Kalli was closest with Alarith.”

Knowing that his Warden had bothered another man for an entire year practically everyday irritated him.

Had she been interested in him? Wanted him to notice her? Had she wanted him?

Sure, he’s left his own trail of sexual partners in his past, both alive and dead, but he couldn’t help the irritation that bubbled in his chest.

Still, he was slightly grateful to her cousin’s meddling, for chasing people away from her.

Thinking about it, the Guardian had asked her if she had failed ‘her’, could the ‘her’ she felt she’d failed have been her cousin? From what he knew, the two had been incredibly close to each other. What could have she failed her in?

… Could she have been…?

It would explain the reason that his Warden had been so broken, and why it was a ‘story she’d never tell’. She was like that, she would never divulge someone's painful past to people who weren’t involved. He wanted to know, but he didn’t want to ask, it was clearly a sensitive topic for her. And also something that she would never tell him.

He would still tell her of Rinna, and perhaps, he could still learn more of her.

***

_If one wishes to shrink it_  
 _One must first expand it_  
 _If one wishes to weaken it_  
 _One must first strengthen it_  
 _If one wishes to discard it_  
 _One must first promote it_  
 _If one wishes to seize it_  
 _One must first give it_  
 _This is called subtle clarity_  
 _The soft and weak overcomes the tough and strong_  
 _Fish cannot leave the depths_  
 _The sharp instruments of the state_  
 _Cannot be shown to the people_

She finished making sure they’d have rations to get through the forest, and enough medical supplies for just in casies. Varathorn wanted Ironbark if they could find it, and that was something she could manage.

“Ah, Morrigan,” she decided to ask, “was living in the Wilds lonely?”

“At times, perhaps… A world full of people and buildings and things was all very foreign to me if I wished companionship, I ran with the wolves and flew with the birds,” Morrigan answered, “if I spoke, ‘twas to the trees.”

“The trees?” Alistair laughed and she kicked him in the butt.

“Ali-butt, talking to plants actually makes them grow better,” she chastised, “I used to talk to the plants at the apothecary’s house all the time.”

“What? They do?” Alistair asked in shock.

“Mmmhm,” she nodded, “ah, actually, if you bully them or talk to them negatively, they’ll die.”

“What?!” Alistair stared at her in shock.

“Yeah,” she nodded, “still… that sounds nice…”

“For a time, but one can only remain a child for so long,” Morrigan recounted, “I recall the first time I crept beyond the edge of the Wilds. I did so in animal form, remaining in the shadows and watching these strange townsfolk from afar. I happened upon a noblewoman by her carriage, adorned in sparking garments the likes of which I had never before seen… I was dazzled. This, to me, seemed what true wealth and beauty must be… I snuck up behind her and stole a hand mirror from the carriage. ‘Twas encrusted in gold and crystalline gemstones and I hugged it to my chest with delight as I sped back to the Wilds.”

“What happened then?” she asked, “I can’t imagine Flemeth was happy with that.”

“Flemeth was furious with me, ‘tis true. I was a child and had not yet come into my full power, and I had risked discovery for the sake of a pretty bauble,” Morrigan replied, “to teach me a lesson, Flemeth took the mirror and smashed it upon the ground. I was heartbroken.”

“My Mother… would have done the exact same thing,” she replied, “she repeatedly told me that never under any circumstances, was I to steal… So that I didn’t end up either dead, raped, or both.”

“Beauty and love are fleeting and have no meaning… Survival has meaning, power has meaning,” Morrigan replied, “without those lessons, I would not be here today, as difficult as they might have been.”

“I personally see love as a strength,” she replied, “but it sounds like those lessons made you stronger.”

“They did indeed,” Morrigan nodded, “to return to your original question: perhaps my time in the Wilds was indeed lonely. But such was how it had to be… I find myself at times wondering what might have become of the girl with the beautiful, golden mirror… but such fantasies have no place amidst reality.”

“True,” she sighed.

She also wondered what might have become of the girl who was set to marry someone she loved. Who wouldn’t have become a Warden. Who didn’t hate herself as she did now…

But that girl didn’t matter.

Not now, and not ever again.

Because that girl is dead.

_“Are you really alright with simply watching everyone else be happy?” the Masked Woman asked mockingly, “knowing that you’ll never be happy yourself?”_

_“I brought this on myself,” she replied deflecting a blow._

_“That’s right,” the Masked Woman laughed, “you don’t deserve to be happy.”_

_“I know,” she replied dodging another blow and weakly tried to counter._

_“You’ll ruin him too,” Nelaros laughed darkly, “just like you ruined me.”_

_She wished she hadn’t seen Edwyn and Jinan again, they reminded her of her failed wedding. Something that was still on her mind, a pain that her heart still bled. But physically seeing them again made her remember the conversation she’d had with Taeodor on that day, the conversations she had with Soris, and Shianni. Seeing them again was a constant reminder that her ability to decide her own fate had been forcefully taken from her, and that all she could do was watch._

_“I know,” she whispered feeling her arms go limp, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to die._

She stifled a yawn and began doing her morning stretches. They would start heading into the forest today, and it’d probably take them a few days to get to the heart of the forest, where Witherfang was… And she still didn’t like some of this, Zathrian was definitely connected to the curse. Well, if the Werewolves are truly as wild and rabid as Zathrian claims, then just killing them wasn’t that big a deal. Still, she had a feeling there was something behind this attack, especially if they were suddenly organized.

“Pardon the intrusion,” she said as they entered the forest.

“Why are you asking the forest to pardon your intrusion?” Alistair asked.

“They said not to anger the forest,” she replied, “so I’m going to be polite.”

“You’re weird,” Alistair replied.

“I know,” she replied seriously.

“Well, let’s try not to get lost here,” Alistair sighed, “places like this can get you turned around.”

“They say the Veil is thin here,” Leliana said, “and all manner of strange things may be seen.”

“You know, I am more of a City Elf, myself,” Zevran said standing next to her, “a forest like this just seems so very… filthy.”

“Yep,” she sighed, “I’ve never been an outdoorsy person.”

“Ah, more forest,” Morrigan said, “and here I thought we left the Wilds for good.”

“Many enter this forest and are never seen again,” Wynne cautioned, “let’s hope we don’t join them.”

“This is like my home in Seheron,” Sten remarked, “but the fiends here are only monsters.”

“Do not perish,” Shale said, “if I deactivate here, I will be overgrown inside a month.”

“Hmmm, I’ve a question for you, Shale,” Zevran said, “how does it feel to be a giant statue?”

“What a bizarre question,” Shale replied, “how else would it feel?”

“Well, let’s see… Does it hurt?” Zevran asked, “do you feel like you’ve been buried under a pile of rock? Or do you feel nothing at all.”

“I have nothing to compare it to,” Shale replied, “how does it feel to be considered an inferior race when compared to others who are just as soft and weak as you?”

“Ah…” Zevran replied, “fine…?”

“How very fragile it must be,” Shale replied, “one touch and its kind crumples, spilling liquid everywhere. No wonder they clad themselves in metal.”

“I don’t,” she said speaking up.

“That’s because the Superior Warden moves like a river stream,” Shale replied.

“It takes more than just a touch,” Zevran replied, “I’m sure…”

“I feel very solid and immortal,” Shale remarked “no putrid liquids to squirt out of me, oh no.”

“Hmm… Now that you mention it,” Zevran replied, “I… I suddenly rather feel like a delicate mushroom…”

“You shouldn’t,” she casually remarked, “you have a good amount of muscle.”

“Oh? Do you like my muscles, my dear Warden?” Zevran purred and she just gave him a smile and continued forwards through the forest.

Well, she hadn’t really seen much of his body, so honestly, she wasn’t sure how much muscle he had. She just guessed it was a good amount, with his clothes on, she could see that he didn’t have too much. Not only that, but fighting the way he did, he probably needed a good amount. Unlike her, who pulverized her own bones to make up for her lack of muscular strength. It was probably for the best that she hadn’t really seen much of his body, in her past life, she was weak to abs and iliac furrows.

Though she wouldn’t object if he decided to start walking around shirtless, as long as he understood that she just wanted to look, and not touch. Giving into lust would be too dangerous, it was already comfortable just being around him. Sex was something intimate, feelings could arise from it. If he grew too attached to her…

She knew how this story needed to end, and so she couldn’t risk getting attached to him. 

Not only that, but it wasn’t fair. 

It wasn’t fair that she was out here doing and seeing all these things when those she loved back in the Alienage were suffering.

Now, then. 

Werewolves.

And wolves.

This might be bad, wolves on their own were hard to predict, but to add Werewolves? Oh dear…

After a bit of fighting they saw a trio of them, waiting.

And by the looks of it, not to fight. So she straightened her back, tried to make herself as big as possible.

“Hrrr… the watch-wolves have spoken truly, my brothers and sisters,” the Leader spoke in a growling voice, “another of the Dalish, come to put us in our place, come to make us pay for our attack.”

“Ho… interesting,” she mused, “you speak? I thought the Werewolves were savage beasts… or at least that was what I was told.”

“We are beasts, but we are no longer simple and mindless,” the Leader replied, “let that thought chill your spine.”

“Well, it certainly changes things,” she replied, “that’s for sure.”

“You speak to Swiftrunner, I lead my cursed brothers and sisters,” Swiftrunner replied, “hrrrrr… Turn back now, go back to the Dalish and tell them that you have failed. Hrrr… tell them we will gladly watch them suffer the same curse we have suffered for too long. We will watch them pay!”

“I would prefer to talk,” she replied, “and get to the bottom of this.”

“Was it not Zathrian who sent you?” Swiftrunner asked, “hrrr… He wishes only our destruction, never to talk!”

“He may have sent us, but I am not him,” she stated simply, “tell me more about this curse… there may be a peaceful end to this yet.”

“You know nothing, do you?” Swiftrunner growled, “nothing of us, and even less of those you serve. You are a fool, and we are done talking.”

“A fool, huh? Nothing of you and even less of ‘those I serve’, huh?” she mumbled before sighing, “unfortunately, as things stand, I don’t want to fight, but neither can I retreat.”

“I do not wish to fight you, either, but we cannot trust you,” Swiftrunner stated, “come, brothers and sisters, let us retreat. The forest has eyes of its own, and it will deal with intruders as it always has.”

Well, now she was definitely _definitely_ certain.

***

“Alistair,” Kallian said leaning against the trunk of a tree arms crossed in front of her chest, “pop quiz: what can you tell me of this curse?”

“Uhh… they bite you, you turn into a werewolf,” he said in thought, “and Zathrian sent us to find Witherfang who is the source of the curse.”

“Mmmmhm,” Kallian hummed closing her eyes as she nodded, “and?”

“What?” he asked.

“And?” Kallian asked again opening her eyes to look at him expectantly, “you are my protege, if that is all you can tell me, then I have failed as a teacher.”

Oh! She was testing him on the information they’d collected and what he’d understood from it. By the sounds of it, Kallian knew the source of the curse, and its secret, and was testing him to see if he knew. 

So, now he just had to think: 

Zathrian denied that the Werewolves had thought, and called them savage beasts… Actually, thinking about it, Zathrian knew a lot about the curse… That’s what Kallian was getting at.

“Zathrian has some connection to the curse,” he stated, “no… it’s not just ‘some’ connection… he has a huge connection to it.”

“Correct,” Kallian nodded, “now then, in what way could Zathrian be connected to the curse?”

“Zathrian… knows a lot about Witherfang,” he said thoughtfully, “and… their storyteller said that Witherfang is as old and powerful as Zathrian himself…”

“And why would the Werewolves want to spread their curse to the Dalish?” Kallian asked.

“Well, Swiftrunner just said so: to watch them suffer like they did,” he replied, “but… Zathrian said there might be a way to destroy the curse… so…”

“Mmhmm,” Kallian smiled, “remember: being able to observe and understand a situation as it is, is the first step to diplomacy… there may yet be a way to end this without spilling more blood than necessary.”

Only Kallian would seek to end this diplomatically, rather than just killing every werewolf they came across. To Kallian, compassion, patience, understanding, and tolerance are everything she needs to navigate life, and she is making sure that he will be well equipped with dealing with the future. Even if he makes her a Teyrna, there will be times he’ll need to stand on his own, without her aid. He can’t just rely on everyone else as Cailan had, and Kallian was making sure of that, making sure that he knew and understood that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Tao Te Ching Chapter Thirty-Six_


	38. How the Cat Retrrieved an Acorn

They continued through the forest, keeping an eye out for Danyla, ironbark, Aneirin, and… she thinks she had a request from the Mages Collective somewhere in the forest. She also wanted to figure out the truth behind the curse. Why would Zathrian cast it? The only way she’d be able to figure it out is if the Werewolves explain it. It was clear that they knew the truth behind the curse, whether they tell them or not, was another question. Though she hoped they would, honestly, she would like to settle this as peacefully as possible.

“By the way, Kalli,” Alistair said, “before, when you were talking to Zathrian… What did you say?”

“What do you mean?” she replied, “I said a lot of things.”

“When Diana was growling,” Alistair said to clarify his question.

“Didn’t I just say ‘Annie, stop’?” she replied.

She wasn’t lying, that’s what it translated too.

“Did you?” Alistair asked.

“Positive,” she nodded firmly before turning to Diana, “isn’t that right?”

Diana barked in confirmation.

Of course, Diana would back her up, their connection spanned across two worlds, after all. They were fated to be, well, her and someone else who does not actually have a name, and who does not actually exist, because he can’t exist. Being around him can’t feel comfortable, and she can’t want anything more from him than she already has.

“See?” she said, “I just told her to stop.”

“Huh… I could have sworn you said some other words,” Alistair replied, “I guess I misheard you.”

“I thought she said something else too,” Leliana said.

“I did as well,” Zevran nodded.

“Hm? Do you hear something?” she said closing her eyes and tilting her head to the side as she focused her hearing.

“Kalli… we’re talking right here,” Alistair replied, and she could hear the frown in his voice.

She wandered off in the direction she’d heard the noise and saw someone collapsed on the ground.

“See, I heard something,” she replied going to the downed man.

“Kallian’s sense of hearing and smell are on par with an actual jaguar,” Sten remarked.

“What? Who… wh—who comes?” the Man asked.

“You’re badly wounded,” she replied, “what happened to you?”

“We were sent to find Witherfang…” the Man replied before collapsing, “bring his heart… attacked… I—”

“Whoa, deja vu,” she hummed looking over his body, she didn’t see any bites, “Wynne, can you cast a healing spell on him, please?”

“Oh yeah,” Alistair replied, “we did find a near dead scout in the Wilds.”

“You… healed me… with magic?” the Hunter asked, “I suppose you must have.”

“I didn’t, she did,” she replied gesturing to Wynne.

“Thank you,” the Hunter replied nodding to Wynne before his eyes returned to her, “I only vaguely remember you finding me. I am very lucky that you did, I think… You are Elven, obviously, but not Dalish. Thank you for helping me.”

“Who are you?” she asked tilting her head to the side.

“I am just a simple hunter of my clan, Deygan of the Dalish… Obviously, my clan must know of you,” Deygan replied, “might I ask who you are?”

“My name is Kallian,” she replied nodding politely, “and I am a Grey Warden.”

“A Grey Warden? Indeed?” Deygan replied, “I am impressed… and grateful.”

“Can you please tell us what happened?” she asked.

“We were in the forest searching for Witherfang. We found traces but made no sighting of the beast itself, we were not a day into the forest when we were ambushed by a group of Werewolves… We did not expect them to be so cunning,” Deygan explained, “I managed to crawl away during the battle. I… expect the others are dead… At least I was not bitten.”

“Do you want me to go back to camp with you?” she asked.

“No, I am certain I can make it safely back to my people alone,” Deygan replied, “but thank you for the offer.”

“Then you should head back,” she replied, “the way should be relatively clear.”

“That would be wise,” Deygan replied, “I must speak with the Keeper.”

“Be safe,” she said as he walked away.

To be honest, she was still worried. Wynne was good, but there’s only so much almost death that can be healed in that short amount of time. She had been out for three weeks, then again, from the sounds of it, her injuries were a lot more severe. A cracked skull is no joke, and if her skull had been cracked, then a concussion was also likely. Concussions were one of the reasons she didn’t hit heads when knocking people around, they couldn’t do brain scans here to make sure that the brain didn’t start swelling.

“Darkspawn,” Alistair announced, and she dodged out of the way of an Ogre.

She bounced off one of the trees and used gravity to bring her dagger down into the Ogre’s forehead.

“I’m sorry, and thank you,” she said placing a hand on the tree after the battle.

“You really don’t want to anger the forest, do you?” Alistair asked.

“Of course not,” she replied circling around the thing the Darkspawn were at, “ah, I think the Mages Collective needed this place… I kinda wanna…”

She disturbed the grave.

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE DONE ANGERING DEMONS IN FORESTS!” Alistair roared as a revenant joined the field.

“No comment,” she replied moving behind a tree as a skeletal archer took aim at her.

“Kalli… you’re going to get us all killed one day,” Alistair sighed after the battle was over.

“Naaaaahhhh, we’ll be fiiiiiiiine,” she replied waving a hand around, “ah, I think that’s the ironbark that Varathorn wa— WAH!”

A tree came to life and attacked her, and she leapt away.

That startled her.

“Did that _actually_ scare you?” Alistair asked.

“Yeah, it did,” she sighed stooping down to gather the pieces of ironbark, “I don’t handle surprises like that well… though, it’s dangerous for another person to do that to me.”

“Ah, yes, you did throw me over your shoulder once,” Zevran chuckled.

“There were other reasons for that,” she replied dryly, “but yes… I think we should head back to the camp… It should only take an hour, and I’m worried about Deygan.”

“I’m sure he made it back to the camp just fine,” Zevran stated.

“Are you feeling territorial, Zevran?” Leliana asked.

He didn’t sound particularly upset, his ‘r’s weren’t being hard-rolled. Thinking about it, she wondered if he had a hatred for Humans. His comment had come out not only with strong feeling behind it, but also very bitter.

“Why would he be feeling territorial?” she asked tilting her head to the side, “territorial of what?”

“Ohhh, Kalli,” Leliana sighed.

“Hm?” she tilted her head to the other side, “I suppose we can wait to see if we find Danyla first… should we follow the stream or go down the hill?”

“I say follow the stream,” Alistair replied.

More Werewolves, though one of them… was on their own, kneeling down. Now knowing that they’re capable of speech, she moved over to them after dispatching the ones that attacked them.

“P— Please… help… listen…” the Werewolf pleaded, “I am not… the mindless beast I appear to be…”

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“They… I am cursed, turned into this creature… the curse, it… it burns in me!” the Werewolf explained, “I… fled into the forest. The Werewolves, they… took me in. But I had to return! I had to!”

“Careful,” Alistair commented, “these Werewolves might have laid a trap for us, or something. You never know.”

“You are… an Elf, but not one of the Dalish,” the Werewolf said looking at her, “I was, until my… change. Have you… seen my clan?”

“Then you are a Dalish who became a werewolf…” she replied sadly.

“Yes, just scant days ago,” the Werewolf replied, “so you know what happened to us.”

“We can try to bring you back to the Dalish for help,” she offered.

“No… I cannot be healed, not even… by magic, please, you must listen…” Danyla replied, “my name is Danyla. My husband… he is called Athras. Please, you must… bring him a message.”

“Oh, the poor woman!” Leliana said sadly, “she’s in such pain!”

“The scarf I wear… bring it to him… tell him I love him,” Danyla pleaded, “tell him… I love him… I am dead and with the gods. I beg you…”

“I… spoke with him,” she replied, “he worries about you.”

“I want him to be at peace… he is a good man. Please do not… let him suffer thinking of me,” Danyla begged before crying out in pain, “ah, the pain! The curse… is fire in my blood! Please! End it for me! End it quickly!”

“…Very well,” she replied, “…I pray that you may reunite with him in the next life.”

“Gods… bless you…” Danyla said as she steeled her resolve and jabbed her dagger up through the bottom of her jaw and straight to her brain.

“We should head back to the camp,” she said letting out a deep sigh and taking Danyla’s scarf from her body, “it should take four hours, from here.”

***

It honestly shouldn't have come as a surprise that his Warden had no clue about the way that hunter, Deygan, had looked at her, nor the effect she had on others. Her cousin’s meddling truly had no bounds, she knew how to use her own feminine wiles, but only when she felt the need to in order to get people to react the way she wanted, and generally, she did it to make it easier to kill them.

Otherwise, she seemed to be rather oblivious.

Or perhaps, her cousin meddled because she was oblivious.

In which case, her cousin’s meddling was much appreciated.

Honestly, that made much more sense.

She was observant, and could quickly determine someone's intentions, and if they needed help. But she clearly had no clue on either what people thought about her, or how they looked at her. The effect she had on others, what her words and actions did to people… She was beauty and compassion in one woman, though he wasn’t sure other men could handle her more dangerous side… Which suited him just fine, since he found that side of her rather alluring.

His Warden donated the entirety of the ironbark to the Dalish, which was honestly, not surprising in the slightest. That was simply the type of person his Warden was, after all.

He watched her move to Athras with a heavy heart but straightened her back when she got to him. He could see her jaw move as she fixed her resolve.

“You have returned,” Athras said greeting her, “is there… any chance you have news of Danyla?”

“I do,” Kallian replied sadly.

“You have news? Have you found her?” Athras asked, “are… are you certain?”

“I… she gave me her scarf,” Kallian replied holding it out for him.

“That is her scarf… Where did you find her?” Athras asked, “what’s become of her?”

“She died from the curse,” Kallian replied, “Zathrian told you the truth.”

“The Keeper… told me the truth?” Athras asked, “are you certain?”

“Yes,” Kallian replied, “and… she sends you her love, as well.”

“Oh… I see…” Athras replied in realization and then sighed sadly, “at least she is at peace…”

“You have my condolences,” Kallian replied.

“Here is the amulet,” Athras said, “as I promised.

“No, I can’t accept that,” Kallian replied shaking her head, “please… keep it.”

“…Thank you,” Athras replied, “now I should go and make arrangements… I must mourn my wife, as is proper. _Dareth shiral_ — fare you well.”

They watched Athras walk off.

“We should probably stay here for the rest of the day, and head back out tomorrow morning,” Kallian sighed, “I don’t want to get attacked by a tree in the middle of the night.”

“Ah, greetings again, Kallian,” Deygan said walking up to her, “I should thank you again, for your help.”

“I’m glad to see you made it back,” Kallian replied with a smile that he wished he could hide.

“I don’t want your efforts to go unrewarded… here is a gem I traded for when I was amongst the outsiders,” Deygan said brightly offering her a sapphire, “I thought to make a necklace out of it for my bride, but I want you to have it.”

“Oh! I can’t possibly accept that,” Kallian replied.

“I insist,” Deygan replied.

“Keep it,” he said firmly, deciding to step in.

“I see… Well, thank you again,” Deygan replied, “and now I am afraid I must rest… the Keeper says I am not fully recovered, after all. I wish you well, my friend.”

His Warden, did what his Warden does, which is wander off, and he followed. She always liked to wander off to spend time away from others, in the past, she had always worked alone. Leading people around was still something new to her, though, to her credit, she was doing a fantastic job at it, but she clearly still needed to spend time to herself. Though, she didn’t seem to mind his company, which was good news, for him.

“Ah… for once, I was hoping you’d be following me,” Kallian said stopping before holding her hand out to him, “hand.”

“Hand?” he asked raising a brow at her.

“Hand,” Kallian repeated staring at him expectantly and he placed his hand in hers, and she turned around trapping it between her body and her elbow, “you’re not allowed to look.”

“My dear Warden,” he said feeling her gently tugging off his glove, “what are you doing?”

She was always very careful when she touched others, handling them gently, it was likely a habit she’d learned from helping out at the healers.

“Don’t look,” Kallian repeated and he felt her slip another glove onto his hand before letting his arm go and giving him an excited grin, “yay, they fit!”

“Gloves? You’re giving me gloves?” he asked in surprise, “what for?”

“Well… if you don’t want it,” Kallian replied puffing her cheeks out and moving to tug the glove back off, “I’ll just take it back.”

“I did not mean to sound ungrateful, it is just…” he replied pulling his hand away from her and then he froze, “wait… I see it now… these are Dalish, no?”

“Are they like your Mother’s?” Kallian asked tilting her head to the side.

“The leather was less thick, and it had more embroidery…” he replied, “but these are very close. And quite handsome.”

“You’re welcome,” Kallian grinned.

“Do I seem surprised?” he asked, “perhaps I am…”

“Here’s the other one, nya,” Kallian replied holding out the other glove.

“Oh? You’re not going to put this one on me too?” he asked and with a sigh, she decided to indulge him by tugging off the glove of his other hand as well, “still, I appreciate the fact that you even thought of me… no one has simply… given me a gift before. Thank you.”

“Of course,” Kallian replied looking down at his newly gloved hand and playing around with it in her fingers, “I’m glad you noticed… I was about to go pout for a good ten minutes.”

“And we wouldn’t want that, now would we?” he chuckled.

“Mmhmm,” Kallian hummed still playing with his hand, he could see the hairpin he’d given her in her hair.

He felt that warmth he’d felt when he had walked in on her making fish chowder return. He wanted to keep her gentle kindness to himself, keep _her_ to himself.

He took his hand back from her, and without knowing what he was doing wrapped his arms around her drawing her to him.

The feeling was… indescribable.

It felt _right_ , like this is how they were meant to be.

She was meant to be in his arms, like she was made just for him. As an Elf, she was the perfect height, and slender enough to make her a comfortable fit. What would it be like to be buried inside of her? To have her moaning and writhing beneath him? And it wasn’t just the way she felt in his arms, it was the way she _smelled_ as well. She spent a lot of time with Diana, using the dog as a pillow of some sort, but she never smelled like dog.

She frowned looking up at him, and her hand came up to block him, so he pressed another kiss to her palm instead.

“Let goooo,” Kallian complained, and he reluctantly released her from his embrace.

He wondered if she felt the same, if she did, her expression betrayed nothing as she spun on her heel with a huff and began wandering back towards the others.

***

She hated him.

She hated him because that was all she could do.

All she could do was hate him.

She couldn’t feel anything other than hate for him.

So she hated him.

It _wasn’t_ comfortable.

It _didn’t_ feel right.

She repeated the words in her head like a mantra as she returned to the others. She hated him, she hated him, she hated him…

She hated that she hated him.

“Leliiii, I looove youuu,” she declared wrapping her fellow redhead up in a hug, “actually… I love everyone until proven unworthy.”

“What do you feel towards people who prove unworthy?” Leliana asked.

“Murderous.”

“Murde— You really have no in-between, do you?” Alistair asked, “you’re either completely one way or another, aren’t you?”

“That’s what it means to be a person of extremes,” she replied, “I can only be one extreme or the other, never in the middle.”

“Why?” Sten asked.

“I don’t know, I was born this way,” she stated still clinging to Leliana, “I can’t help the personality I was born with… I blame my Mother. She was the same.”

“What was your Mother like?” Wynne asked.

“Fearless, brave, strong, skilled, witty, charismatic, wild, and full of life,” she answered, “she could never sit still when there was something she could do about something…”

“She sounds exactly like you,” Alistair pointed out.

“She was more reckless than I am,” she stated, “and a lot… more… volatile, I suppose is an adequate word… I’m a lot calmer and more steady… courtesy of my Father.”

She noticed Zevran return to the small camp that they’d set a little ways away from the Dalish and tightened her grip on Leliana.

“Kalli, are you sure you don’t want to cling to Zevran?” Leliana teased.

“Very,” she replied.

“You know… now that I can actually feel your weight…” Leliana tapped her hands and she let her go and then was picked up by Leliana, “Kalli… you weigh nothing.”

“I have very little muscle,” she replied just letting herself get picked up, “so that shouldn’t be surprising.”

“Maker’s breath, Kalli,” Alistair said taking her from Leliana, “where does your strength even come from.”

“I have strong bones,” she replied as Alistair put her back down, “I wonder how far Shale can throw me…”

“No,” Zevran said firmly.

“It’s my body,” she frowned, “Shale, aren’t you curious to see how far you can throw me?”

“No,” Zevran repeated and she snapped her teeth at him hard enough to make a sound.

“I am curious to see how far I could throw the Superior Warden, yes,” Shale replied, “but I don’t want to accidentally squish the Superior Warden… Then we’d be stuck with the Inferior Warden as a leader… can it imagine the horror?”

“Hey!” she and Alistair shouted in unison.

“I am not _that_ delicate,” she argued, “and Alistair’s gotten waaaaaaaaaay better!”

“This is true,” Leliana nodded, “he has come a long way.”

“So, Shale, throw me,” she said again.

“No,” Zevran frowned.

“You never let me have any fun,” she complained.

“I never thought I’d be glad to know that the griffons had gone extinct until now,” Alistair said dryly, “now we can be sure that Kalli won’t hitch a ride on one and do something crazy.”

“I would never want to ride a griffon anyway,” she replied, “that sounds scary… I don’t even know how to ride a horse, and then they’d ask me to ride something that _flies?_ And then fight on its back? No way, that’s way too extreme, even for me.”

Flying through the sky, on a griffon sounded terrifying, they’d constantly move up and down with every beat of its wings… Airplanes were fine because you just sit there and don’t gotta worry about it, but a griffon? She’d be forced to hold on tightly, and then also be expected to fight on its back?

“ _That’s_ where you draw the line?” Alistair asked, “you would rather be thrown around than fly around on a griffon?”

“Yeah… plus the higher in elevation you go, the less air there is,” she replied, “not only that but it gets colder up there, too.”

“Wait, really?” Alistair asked.

“Yeah, why do you think it snows more on the _tops_ of mountains?” she nodded, “in any case, mounted combat, in general, doesn’t really interest me.”

She stared at Zevran with a frown, there was something she forgot to ask him, in regards to his new gloves.

“What is wrong, my dear Warden?” Zevran asked.

“I forgot to ask if you wanted me to fix the embroidery,” she replied, “though, I don’t have that much experience embroidering leather… I also don’t know what kind of embroidering you want… Though, I can’t do anything about the thickness of the leather.”

“No, no,” Zevran replied, “these are fine as they are.”

“If you say so,” she replied standing up to stretch, “g’night, guys.”

“Night,” Alistair replied.

Dreams of the Archdemon sure were great, she loved them. She didn’t care what that said about her, honestly, all it probably said was that she was constantly hounded by the ghosts of her past. Ghosts that never let her sleep, and would never leave her alone. Ghosts that she allowed to haunt her.

Hopefully, they won’t need to return to the Dalish camp for anything else, according to some of the Hunters, it _should_ take them two days to get to… where they think the Werewolves lair is.

They trekked back into the forest, but this time, she decided to take the path they hadn’t before, curious to see what lay through it.

More angry trees.

And then a tree that did not look like any of the others.

“Hrrmmmm… what manner of beast be thee,” the Tree said, “that comes before this Elder Tree?”

“Whoa! You can talk?” she asked, “how?”

“How do I speak? The same as you. I form the words and sound them true,” the Elder Tree replied, “now I have answered a query of thine, but thou hast yet to answer mine.”

“Can’t you see me?” she asked, “I am an Elf.”

“Ahhhh, yes, I remember thee. Long ago, the Elves roamed free, their numbers few and passing fast, until one eve we saw their last,” the Grand Oak replied, “allow me a moment to welcome thee. I am called the Grand Oak, sometimes the Elder Tree.”

“Wow…” Leliana said awestruck.

“The world is… certainly full of marvelous, unexpected creations,” Wynne said, “each day we see something that we never thought possible…”

“It… rhymes? ‘Tis a rhyming tree,” Morrigan stated, “one can only imagine what manner of spirit is involved here.”

“I… think it’s friendly,” she stated, “about as friendly as Shale is…”

“And unless thou thinkst it far too soon, might I ask of thee a boon?” the Grand Oak asked.

“Why… do you speak in rhymes?” she asked.

“I do not know. Why dost thou not?” the Grand Oak replied, “thy words seem plain, a mundane lot. Perhaps a poet’s soul’s in me… does that make me a poet tree?”

“Pfffffffffffffffffffft,” she laughed, “I don’t know how to feel about the fact that that got me.”

“Ashamed,” Alistair replied dryly, “you should feel ashamed of yourself.”

“It was but a simple jest,” the Grand Oak replied, “a jibe to entertain my guest.”

“What… are you, exactly?” Wynne asked.

“I am an elder oak and nothing more, though once I dreamt of a time before, when I roamed the world and howled with pain, not of this world but twixt and twain. Perhaps I was a spirit then? A wandering thing drawn to this glen? But then the spirit joined with a tree; since then, a tree is all I be.”

“It just seems that the other trees are far more hostile,” Leliana noted.

“Of the sylvans, this is true: they are quite mad, their virtues few. A spirit trapped within a tree, no mouth to scream or eyes to see. A cage of bark, a prison wood, a thing of rage where nature stood. So twisted sylvan they become, but I am not the same as some. I accept my fated oaken home, I feel no need to rage and roam.”

“Don’t forget, Ali-butt, I want to become a plum tree when I die,” she said before turning back to the Grand Oak, “can you tell us more about this forest?”

“I can only speak to what a tree may see. It may not help you, but it is enough for me.”

“How did the forest become like this?” she asked.

“A great war perhaps, I cannot tell. I was not here when it befell. But many deaths here, all the same, and with the deaths, the spirits came. The spirits entered corpse and tree and most went mad as thou canst see. The forest had a spirit of its own, from back when its first seeds were sown. Perhaps she died of grief that day, or perhaps she simply went away. Or perhaps the Weres are the ones to blame, for the day she left is the day they came.”

“I don’t understand,” Alistair said frowning in thought.

“I speak as clearly as I see. Plainer than this I cannot be.”

Spirit of the Forest… Werewolves are only in this forest… Zathrian… Witherfang… The Spirit left when the Weres came.

But he said ‘she’, not ‘he’ and Zathrian and the hunters claim Witherfang male.

Then again… do spirits even _have_ genders?

“Is there anything around here of note?” she asked.

“Most of what was is overgrown, leaving only broken stone. Perhaps some ruins remain free of rot. I know not where, I see them not.”

“Why is this place called the Brecilian Forest?”

“That is but a Human name, one placed upon this land, their claim. A claim they stole from Ancient Elves, whom they first killed, and were killed themselves.”

“There were Elves who lived here?”

“It was the Elves who planted the seeds, raised the forest, saw to its needs. But that was all… so long ago. That they are dead is all I know.”

“Do you know where Witherfang’s lair is?” she asked, “I would like a chat.”

“In the center of the forest the Weres do dwell, or so go the tales my fellows tell. But they cannot be followed there; the forest doth protect the Weres.”

“Why do the trees protect them?” Alistair asked.

“Perhaps Weres use magic to command the trees? All I know is they move as they please.”

Do Witherfang and the Spirit share the same body? Forced possession…? From their encounters with the like, demons could forcefully possess things… Can mages force demons to possess things? Probably.

“Is there any other way to get to the center of the forest?” she asked.

“Perform the boon as I ask and I shall reward thee for the task. I have but one desire, to solve a matter very dire: as I slept one early morn, a thief did come and steal an acorn.”

“Ahh… and it’s precious to you, isn’t it?” she asked.

“All I have is my being, my seed. Without it, I am alone indeed. I cannot go and seek it out, yet I shall die if left without.”

“Where could we find this thief?” she asked.

“It was stolen by a Human man, deep within these woods he ran. Wouldst that I could travel there, I’d teach the fool to soon beware!”

“Alright,” she nodded, “we’ll find him… and teach him a lesson on stealing for you, then.”

“Go to the east to find this man. I shall await, do what thou can.”

She moved to begin walking away, but stopped when she saw… a tent? Why would there be a tent here? Deygan said the Elven hunters were probably all dead, and that he barely managed to get away on his own. The Werewolves obviously had their own base. Aneirin, perhaps? She doubted it.

“Wait… is that a campsi—” she cut herself off as alarm bells began ringing in her head and she felt her hair rise.

“Mercy! An old camp in the middle of the bloody forest?” Zevran mused, “now I call that an invitation.”

“We should go,” she replied watching them go closer to it.

“How odd… a camp with no campers, complete with fire and warm blankets,” Morrigan said, “rather inviting, would you not say?”

“Oh, my… did this belong to the Elven hunters?” Leliana asked, “I’m surprised the fire hasn’t burned out of control. Lucky for us, perhaps.”

“No tracks,” Sten noted, “whoever built this must still be here.”

“I think we should go,” she repeated staying away from the camp, “I’m getting bad vibes from this place.”

“Now this is peculiar… whoever this belonged to must have just recently abandoned it,” Alistair replied, “we should be careful.”

“I agree… this is strange. The Werewolves would not use such a camp, would they?” Wynne asked, “whoever this belongs to must be nearby.”

“Yep, so let’s go,” she replied as Diana began barking angrily, “because I’m telling you, we need to not be here.”

Reluctantly, she moved closer to the campsite in order to drag her group away, and her instincts kicked in.

Wrong.

This was wrong.

“We’re going?” Leliana asked as she grabbed her, “my feet are so sore… if we’re careful, we could use this camp, couldn’t we? Would it be that bad?”

“Yes,” she replied trying to pull her away.

This felt like the Sloth Demon at the Tower.

“You know, if it’s all the same to you, why don’t we sit down a while?” Zevran asked, “strange as it sounds, I’d rather camp here before going back out into the forest.”

“Can you feel that?” Alistair asked, “it feels as if… the strength is running out of me. I want nothing more than to sleep, to light the fire. How… strange…”

“I am suddenly feeling quite drained… do you feel that?” Morrigan yawned, “is the forest doing that? Perhaps we should rest a bit before moving on…”

“Perhaps we’re being too hasty in leaving… I’m too old for all this running around,” Wynne replied, “the camp looks like a good spot to rest, so long as we’re watchful.”

“You wish to leave already?” Sten asked with a yawn, “why?”

Well, _that_ woke her up. She’s _never_ heard Sten yawn before.

Ever.

“There is a force at work here,” Shale noted, “I did not feel it earlier, but now… I am having trouble moving.”

“It’s a sloth demon,” she said, “unless you want to become sloth demon food, we have to go!”

As soon as she said that, the scene changed instead of the warm and inviting campsite, it became a cold, long-dead one filled with humanoid bones.

With an angry Sloth demon heading straight towards her.

“A hungry spirit luring those who pass to their rest… and their doom,” Morrigan mused, “one might wonder how it learned this trick. No matter. It shall prey on no one else.”

“Maker’s breath… This was a demon that fed once on travelers and remained to trap more as they passed. Like a—” Alistair cut himself off, “Kalli, how did you know?”

“Three words: Wild. Animal. Instincts,” she replied, “I’ve been working on getting more and more in touch with them… the instincts of a wild animal are no joke, y’know?”

“…Well, I never thought I’d be glad that someone’s getting in touch with their animalistic instincts before, but here I am,” Wynne mused, “but how long has that spirit lingered there? And how many has it preyed upon? I shudder to think of it.”

“I told you: it covers a broader scope than just Darkspawn,” she replied.

“How awful… All those people, lured by a demon of sloth,” Leliana sighed, “it is a good thing we escaped its clutches!”

“Honestly, I’m a little surprised,” she said turning to look at Wynne, Alistair, and Zevran, “we’ve felt that pull before… in the Tower. With the other Sloth demon.”

“…Right,” Alistair replied looking away as she stared at them in disappointment.

“Ahhhh… I’m tired,” she sighed, “we should set up camp, soon.”

“You want to set up camp, _now_?” Alistair asked, “after we got attacked by a _demon?_ ”

“Yeah, why not?” she replied, “it’s late, and I don’t want to be attacked by trees, Darkspawn, or Werewolves in a dark forest… though, not here, of course.”

When the others noticed that it was, indeed, getting dark. They put as much distance between the campsite as possible since the others were disturbed by the fact that they had almost fallen under the influence of a sloth demon.

Meanwhile, she didn’t really care.

She trusted her instincts and her gut, and honestly? It was paying off.

Shale was such a good guard since they didn’t need rest at all… which was lucky for everyone, since it allowed them to get a better nights rest.

***

After a night's rest, they were back to trekking through the forest, being attacked by trees, Werewolves, and, occasionally, Darkspawn… And Kallian had decided to anger more demons within the forest when they found unsettling ruins. They were continuing to follow the path when Kallian noticed a solitary Elf.

One who looked very familiar.

Aneirin.

“Friends, turn back, please,” Aneirin said as they approached, “these woods are a danger to those who do not know the paths—”

“Aneirin…?” she asked in awe.

“Wait, I… I remember your face…” Aneirin replied, “but younger, more impulsive, stern… Wynne?”

“We’ll be over there,” Kallian said, “so you two can catch up.”

They watched as Kallian and the others walked away to give them some privacy.

“I thought they had killed you…” she replied.

“They very nearly did… the Templars found me while I was searching for the Dalish,” Aneirin recounted, “they ran me through and left me for dead.”

“I brought this on you,” she sighed, “oh, I was a dreadful mentor, harsh and impatient… I am sorry for the way I treated you.”

“I have put that behind me, and you should too,” Aneirin replied, “I didn’t fit in with the Templars and your Chantry… my path lay elsewhere.”

“Irving is a reasonable man… he will find some way for you to return,” Wynne replied, “the Circle needs new blood. It needs to change.”

“I have fond memories of Irving… he was always kind to me,” Aneirin smiled, “I will consider your proposal and perhaps I will speak with Irving. However, I promise nothing.”

“Nya-ha-ha-ha!” she heard Kallian laugh, and then Alistair sputter.

“She must be teasing him again,” she said wryly, “she does so love to do that…”

“I see you have new apprentices to mentor,” Aneirin commented with a smile.

“No, if anyone’s a teacher among us… it’s Kallian,” she replied, “you would have fared far better under her tutelage.”

“Perhaps…” Aneirin replied, “I’m sure you have much to do, you should be on your way… my years in the Circle were not a complete waste. I learned more than I let on. You did teach me, Wynne, even if you didn’t know it.”

“And you taught me as well, Aneirin,” she replied.

“Look at this… it is the hardened sap of a tree native to this forest,” Aneirin replied handing her an amulet, “it’s been something of a lucky charm for me, and now I want you to have it.”

“Very well… I am grateful,” she smiled, “may your gods smile on you, Aneirin.”

“And on you,” Aneirin replied.

After bidding their farewells, she moved back to the others.

“Oh, are you done?” Kallian asked.

“Yes… thank you, Kallian,” she replied.

“No problem,” Kallian replied with a smile.

***

They walked for a bit more, she was glad that they found Aneirin for Wynne.

“I think… that’s the thief,” she said, “the crazy guy fighting the air…”

“What do you think we should do?” Alistair asked.

She had a feeling that her Mother in her past life, would recommend not making eye-contact, and not talking to them.

“Well… my Mother told me to never make eye contact, or even acknowledge people who are that strain of crazy,” she replied, “once they make eye-contact it’s all over.”

“What’s all over?” Leliana asked.

“Depends on the kind of crazy we’re dealing with,” she answered, “we should… just… figure out where the acorn is… do you think it’s in that tree stump?”

“Hold on, you! That’s private property!” the Man glowered as they neared the tree stump, “that’s an old man’s home, that is! Keep out! _Keep out!”_

“Definitely in there,” she said as the man ran away and crouched down to reach inside in order to steal the acorn back.

“Hmm… no offense, but might I try?” Zevran asked kneeling down next to her, “I’ve got a quick hand, after all.”

“Is that so?” she asked and then noticed how close his face was.

“Yes,” Zevran replied grinning at her.

“Well, go ahead then,” she sighed moving away, “show off.”

“Ha! Let’s see… when was the last time I slipped my hand into some dark hole?” Zevran wondered aloud, “hmm… I remember. Long story, that.”

“Do I even wanna know?” she asked.

“Perhaps… and there we go!” Zevran replied standing up to hand her the acorn, “it was definitely trapped, but I am too awesome, by far. Here’s what was inside.”

“Too bad you can’t pick locks to save your life,” she replied.

“You’re a robber is what you are! _They_ sent you, didn’t they?” the Man said reappearing, “well, I’ll show you! _They_ won’t get away with this!”

Well, she was planning on killing him for being a thief, at first. But after seeing that he was crazy, she’d decided to not. Ah, well this way he won’t be able to steal something from anyone else now.

After dealing with the crazy man, and his two summoned demons, they decided to return to the Grand Oak… though, perhaps she took a wrong turn because there was mist and suddenly they realized they made zero progress.

“I may just be stupid, but isn’t this right where we started?” Zevran asked, “we could barely _see_ our way.”

“You said it, not me,” she said.

“I… do not think we made any progress… We could barely see our way through the mist,” Wynne said, “and now we are back at the beginning again.”

“The forest, it seems, does not wish us to reach wherever the path leads,” Morrigan sighed, “how protective.”

“Yeah… that was… odd… Did you feel that?” Alistair asked, “we got turned around somehow…”

“Oh, good, for a moment I was worried that it was just my imagination,” Leliana sighed.

“How bizarre,” Shale replied.

Hm… it was… probably the lair where Witherfang dwelt. A befuddlement charm, mixed with a looping spell, if she had to guess.

Not that she would say that out loud.

“Ah, well,” she sighed, “let’s retrace our steps, I simply wanted to return to the Grand Oak, anyway.”


	39. How the Cat Entered the Forest's Heart

They should probably set up camp after they return the Grand Oak’s acorn, it was getting late again. Navigating forests at night was never a safe bet, and that applied to regular forests, navigating a _haunted_ one? Yeah, no, she was reckless, and sometimes stupid, but she wasn’t that strain of reckless and stupid.

Hopefully, she won’t get them lost, though she doubted she would.

Ah, there he is.

“My acorn is still gone, so I pray to thee… hast thou any news for me?”

“Is this it?” she asked holding the acorn up for the Grand Oak to take from her.

“My joy soars to new heights indeed!” the Grand Oak said happily, “I am reunited with my seed!”

“We taught the thief a lesson,” she replied.

“This cannot pass without reward, I shall give what little I can afford,” the Grand Oak said breaking off one of his branches and handing it to her, “keep this branch of mine with thee, and pass throughout the forest free.”

“Thank you,” she replied accepting the branch.

“I wish thee well, my mortal friend. Thou brought my sadness to an end,” the Grand Oak said, “may the sunlight find you, thy days be long, thy winters kind, and thy roots be strong.”

They should be able to get into the heart of the forest, now.

“We should set up camp,” Alistair said, “and head to the heart of the forest tomorrow morning.”

“Ohhhhhh,” she replied clapping her hands together, “I’m proud of you.”

They began moving to set up camp, and she began humming as she moved about preparing dinner. She still hated not being able to cook in a kitchen.

“You know… whenever you are cooking, you have such a nice smile on your face,” Leliana said.

“Well, I do enjoy it,” she replied, “and it’s always hard to keep a smile off your face when you’re doing something you love.”

“But you’re also always smiling when you’re terrifying,” Alistair said.

“Putting the fear of the gods into people is also something I enjoy doing,” she replied, “especially when it means that I get to show people on their high horses that they ain’t shit.”

“…Right, messed up personality,” Alistair said.

“Yep,” she nodded, “putting trash in their place is fun.”

“So… Wynne,” Zevran said, “let us pretend that I do, indeed, believe that murder is wrong.”

“We are not having this conversation,” Wynne replied coldly.

“Were I to believe such a thing, what would I do with it?” Zevran asked, “feeling guilty about things one can no longer change seems so very time-consuming with little hope for actual gain.”

“But you could change what you do in the future,” Wynne replied.

“What would that require, exactly?” Zevran sighed, “it seems to me that feeling guilty would take up a great deal of my time as it is.”

“Perhaps you could save a life, instead?” Wynne offered, “one for every life you have taken.”

“That is a great many lives to save and feel guilty as well,” Zevran replied, “perhaps I could do one or the other?”

“It is not a game, Zevran,” Wynne sighed, “you either know right from wrong or you do not.”

“I… I am so confused… I think I may cry,” Zevran replied, “my dear Warden, may I lay my head on your thighs?”

“You’ll live,” she replied.

“You are so very cruel,” Zevran sighed, “how is it that you do not feel guilty?”

“Easily,” she replied simply, “in any case, healing people is just killing them in reverse. Likewise, in my case, killing people is healing them in reverse… life and death are two sides of the same coin, after all, nya.”

“And Kalli is rather good at killing,” Leliana nodded, “among other things.”

“Apothecaries make both medicines and poisons,” she added, “you can use the skills you have to make poisons to make medicines, mya.”

“See, Zevran?” Wynne replied gesturing to her, “Kallian has it figured out.”

“My dear Warden has a great many things figured out,” Zevran replied dryly.

“Though, personally, I think he’s fine just the way he is,” she replied, “someone has to deal with society's trash, why not let it be the ones who have the skills for it? The right tool for the right job. I’ve heard something said before: it takes more than pretty words and noble purpose to build a better future, mrow.”

Though she didn’t really remember where she’d heard that from. 

Probably something from her last life.

“See, my darling Wynne?” Zevran replied gesturing to her, “I have my purpose.”

“…I have no argument to that,” Wynne sighed.

“And Kalli has won another argument,” Alistair said writing something down.

“Oh! Good, you’re writing that quote down,” Leliana said, “I was just about to ask you to.”

“You guys are still doing that?” she asked.

“Of course,” Leliana replied.

“I see,” she sighed, “ahhh… what I wouldn’t give for a nicely sized crate.”

“For what reason?” Sten asked.

“Crates are great,” she replied, “stable surfaces, and you can store things in them. Like me.”

“Kalli, why do cats like being in crates?” Alistair asked.

“Mm… it’s not just crates and boxes,” she replied, “it’s containers in general… and it’s because it’s fewer sides of them that they have to guard… Like I can press my ear against the wall of the crate, and even if I’m still sleeping, I can hear what’s going on outside of it.”

“You… really understand cats, huh?” Alistair commented.

“Naturally,” she replied.

Well, she and they had similar mindsets, sure, but biology was one of the biggest interests in her past life. So she knew a crap ton of random facts about plants and animals. Though she honestly liked science in general, and she was oddly good at it. Odd, because she was absolute, complete, and utter trash at maths. How she was good at sciences, was truly anyone's guess. Probably because she actually found it interesting.

“Zevran, do you know a lot about crows?” Alistair asked, “the bird, I mean.”

“…No, I’m afraid not,” Zevran replied, “other than that a group of them is called a murder.”

“Crows are… known for their intelligence and their ability to adapt, I think,” she said closing her eyes in thought, “I think… I read somewhere that… when a crow dies, the rest of the flock will gather to figure out what killed them, and see if there’s a threat to the rest of the flock… Though I think ravens are smarter than crows… Either way, they’re both incredibly smart.”

“Wonderful,” Shale said dryly.

“You know a lot,” Alistair said, “about… everything.”

“Not everything, I’m garbage at geography, and to be honest? I’m also terrible at math,” she replied waving a sleeve around, “and I would never _want_ to know everything anyway.”

“And why would that be?” Morrigan asked.

“It takes the mystery out of life,” she replied, “one of the best things in life is being able to experience things… not only that, but I’ve always thought of knowledge as a double-edged blade: it’s just as likely to kill you as it is save you.”

Plus, in her past life, people who wished for the ability to know everything usually went crazy from it in myths and such. They hated not being able to live through new experiences, because their knowledge of everything prevented them from experiencing things for the first time. Many of them wanted to die, but then couldn’t. There were many things that are better off not known, as well. That and knowledge of everything takes out all the fun in life.

***

“Ah, by the way, Sten,” Kallian said, “you said something about the fiends in Seheron being only monsters?”

“Ours wear the faces of men,” he replied.

“Are they like Darkspawn?” Kallian asked in alarm.

“No,” he answered, “even the most cunning emissaries of the Archdemon cannot pass for men… Darkspawn, abominations, plagues, and storms: men are far more dangerous than these… One moment of betrayal can bring more ruin than an earthquake. You know this.”

“I’d rather deal with the aftermath of someone's betrayal, than their stupidity, and ignorance, at least they’ll have some sort of reason for betraying people,” Kallian replied bitterly, “but stupidity and ignorance? It’s because they were too lazy to educate themselves and now others have to pay the price… Ignorantly arrogant idiotic pieces of shit deserve nothing more than death.”

She was practically snarling with barely contained rage, the look in her eyes reflected as much.

It was times like these, where they were reminded that Kallian was like a deadly beast.

“Kalli, sometimes your face scares me,” Alistair said.

“Ah, sorry,” Kallian replied putting her hand to her cheek, “are there any Darkspawn in Seheron?”

“Darkspawn are not our concern in the islands, Tal-Vashoth are,” he replied, “they say they are ‘grey ones’. True in the knowledge of themselves… They are gaping holes where men used to be. Nothing can fill them.”

“What do they want?” Kallian asked.

“I don’t know… There was a village in the mountains of Seheron. Farmers. They grew cinnamon and nutmeg trees in perfectly ordered rows… There would always be one person waiting. A foreman, a harvester, rank didn’t matter. Often, they would say nothing. Simply watch as we worked to examine the empty house, a new one each time, that had once been the home of a colleague, a friend. We always made a point of searching. Now and then, a body would turn up in a river, eaten by rain and crows. More often, we found nothing. Even in the worst parts of the jungle, the villagers would send someone with us. To see the tiniest piece of bone or cloth. Anything contained the possibility of their lost friend… You spoke of closure once. They sought this.”

“Why do the Tal-Vashoth fight you?” Kallian asked.

“Isn’t it the nature of a wound to bleed? I have no answers than you. Why do we fight the Darkspawn? Why do the Darkspawn fight us?”

“No clue why the Darkspawn fight us, but we’re fighting back in self-defense, from what I’ve gathered,” Kallian asked, “the Tal-Vashoth, they don’t give reasons?”

“They do, now and then. Do the reasons matter? It makes little difference to those they fight… Tell me, then: why do you fight?”

“To protect the world from devastation,” Kallian replied, “and unite all peoples within our nation.”

“Are you being serious?” he asked.

“Isn’t that literally what we’re doing? Like right now? Uniting the peoples within Ferelden? To keep the Blight from devastating the world?”

“…I’ll give you that. In the _antaam_ , we are told of the enemy: assume he loves as you love, hates as you hate, and fights just as hard as you. It’s a lie, of course. But does that matter, so long as you stand, and believe you know your enemy? The Tal-Vashoth wish us dead. And we wish to go on living. The point of our war is war.”

“Hmm… they probably have some point or other,” Kallian replied.

“Undoubtedly, they’ve used it to kill countless people.”

“Perhaps they simply want things to change.”

“Death is certainly a change.”

“That’s true… In any case, I didn’t mean to offend you by asking you about this.”

“I have no feelings you can hurt, Kallian,” he replied.

“Well, alright then,” Kallian replied.

***

They headed back out into the forest, hopefully, they’d be able to get to the bottom of this mess.

“By the way, Kalli,” Alistair said, “can you handle this one? It’ll probably be better for an Elf to settle this than a Human.”

“I’m so proud of you… Knowing how to delegate tasks to those best suited for them is another thing a leader needs to know,” she replied, “so yes, it will be better if I settle this, since I am an Elf, and something like this is a delicate matter.”

“Oh, good,” Alistair replied, “for a moment I was worried you were going to make me do it anyway.”

“The right tool for the right job,” she replied, “I am an Elf who appreciates diplomacy and peace. Therefore, I am the right tool for this job.”

“Why does the Swamp Witch still travel with the Grey Wardens,” Shale asked.

“You are of the opinion that I should not be?” Morrigan asked in return.

“I am curious,” Shale replied, “it seems as if it has little reason to stay.”

“The same could be said of you,” Morrigan replied, “there is no control rod commanding your presence, golem.”

“I have no history, and thus no purpose,” Shale replied, “the same cannot be said for the Swamp Witch. Its purpose is simply unknown.”

“Is Kallian, not a good enough reason to stay?” Morrigan asked.

“Am I just the common ground for everyone to agree on?” she asked.

“’Twould appear so,” Morrigan replied.

“Well, I suppose its fine as long as it’s not to insult me,” she replied, “or if it _is_ to insult me, then I hope it’s for good reason.”

“I understand that there are Elves in the Qunari lands, Sten,” Zevran said.

“There are Elves everywhere,” Sten replied.

“Hm. Yes. Well, I’ve heard that the Qunari actually put the Elves in charge? Over the Humans?” Zevran asked, “is that true?”

Her suspicions on Zevran not liking Humans were growing. 

Honestly, with what he’s been through, she wouldn’t blame him. Purchased by the Crows because Humans liked the way they looked… She’d unleashed her own torrent of anger, hatred, and rage when Humans decided that they liked the way she looked… Though she used their attraction to her against them, many, many times, and not for any reason other than her supreme disgust for men who think they can have their way with any woman they want.

If she had been purchased by the Crows and forced to become an assassin the way he had…

She might have gone on a murder spree and just killed every Human in sight, really. It’s been proven that she’s capable of losing her mind and causing destruction on an unimaginable scale.

“Some of them,” Sten replied.

“Only some?” Zevran asked, “which ones are they?”

“The ones who belong in charge,” Sten answered, “that is the way of the Qun.”

“How does this Qun determine who belongs in charge?” Zevran asked.

“The _tamassrans_ evaluate everyone and place them where their talents merit,” Sten answered.

“But Elves, in general, merit higher places than Humans in Qunari society?” Zevran asked.

“Some of them,” Sten repeated.

“Back where we began,” Zevran sighed, “it’s like talking to a water wheel.”

“Kallian, for instance, would likely find herself in a high-ranking position, in the Qun,” Sten acquiesced.

“She would find herself in a high-ranking position in many places,” Zevran replied dryly, “not just the Qun.”

“She’s already wanted for high-ranking positions,” Alistair said, “and her future’s been claimed… by Ferelden.”

“I think she’ll be the first Human appointed Elven noble,” Leliana mused.

“And once the Blight had been ended, Kallian disappeared,” she said speaking up, “making a clean break from history, and vowing to never stain its pages again.”

“Nope, don’t forget,” Alistair replied, “you’re not allowed to decline.”

“Zevran, how much would it cost to get you to assassinate me?” she asked.

“There isn’t enough coin in Thedas to get me to assassinate you, my dear Warden,” Zevran replied smoothly, “I was, after all, already hired to do so.”

“Boo-hisss,” she replied, “ah, I think we’re here.”

They were outside of the misty area that had turned them around again.

Ah, yes, in the tropes they were used in such things did have some weird quirk to them. She remembered her previous musings on it, and decided that it was probably just a misdirection spell combined with a barrier, that would make more sense. A looping spell would probably make the path endless.

Or maybe it was a simple befuddlement spell…

Well, not that she was a mage or really knew anything about magic, and since it wasn’t something she was capable of, she didn’t really care.

“The forest has not been vigilant enough, still you come,” Swiftrunner said greeting them, “you are stronger than we could have anticipated. The Dalish chose well. But you do not belong here, outsider. Leave this place!”

“Why won’t you let me try to settle this dispute?” she asked with a sigh, “I really, truly, hate unnecessary violence and bloodshed.”

“Hrrrr… You are sent by the treacherous Dalish to kill Witherfang!” Swiftrunner growled, “I will not stand by and allow that to happen!”

“I’ve already said this: they may have sent us, but I am not them,” she replied, “and I’ve no intentions of harming Witherfang, I would like to talk.”

“I do not believe you. I will not risk believing you. Hrrr… You are an intruder in our home! You come to kill, as all your kind do!” Swiftrunner replied, “we have learned this lesson well. Here, Witherfang protects us. Here we learn our names and are beloved! We will defend Witherfang and this place with our lives!”

“I just said I hate unnecessary violence and bloodshed!” she argued but moved to defend herself anyway.

She leapt back as a large wolf came charging at her, Witherfang, most likely, in order to separate her and Swiftrunner.

Witherfang barked at her and bought time for the Weres to retreat.

“We are invaded! Intruders have deceived their way into the forest’s heart!” Another Werewolf shouted, “fall back to the ruins! Protect the Lady!”

Lady?

Ah, then she was right: Witherfang and the Spirit of the Forest inhabit the same body.

That made sense since the Spirit of the Forest _would_ be able to manipulate the forest to its will, and Witherfang protects the Weres.

“I think this is it,” Alistair sighed, “Werewolf city… Kind of flea heaven, isn’t it?”

“Ah, here we go,” Morrigan said, “the Werewolf lair unless I miss my mark.”

“I assume we do not need to look for Werewolf droppings to figure out this is their lair?” Shale asked.

“Well considering that they were guarding it…” she sighed, “no.”

“No one in your country repairs anything when they occupy it, do they?” Sten asked and she opened her mouth to argue but remembered Ostagar, and promptly closed it again.

“Be on your guard,” Wynne cautioned, “I think we’re being watched.”

“Tread lightly in the heart of the forest,” Leliana recounted, “for past wrongs are remembered and mourned.”

“The Werewolves live in an old ruin?” Zevran said almost excitedly, “hmm… I wonder if there are other treasures to be found here besides wolf droppings?”

“Zevran…” she sighed shaking her head before walking forward.

The insides of the ruin were… hmm… interesting, to say the least.

“Is this an Elven place?” Alistair wondered, “did the Elves live underground just like the Dwarves?”

“I wonder what this ruin used to be,” Wynne said, “is it Tevinter, or Elven?”

“The ruins certainly look Tevinter, but are filled with Elven trappings,” Morrigan noted, “how very odd.”

“It seems that Elves once lived with the Tevinter Humans?” Zevran said looking around, “or the Tevinters built this place for them? I never heard of such a thing.”

“Mysteries lost to history,” she mused, 

“Do you think it’s safe to be in here?” Leliana asked, “I thought I heard a wall crumbling in the distance.”

“This place will be full of traps, then,” Sten remarked, “or worse.”

“Yes, there are no doubt many traps here,” Shale agreed, “don’t get squished.”

“I will endeavor to not get squished,” she replied giving a salute before noticing something in the wall, “ooh, is that a secret door?”

She heard someone slap their foreheads as she went to check it out.

Furrowing her brows, she punched the skull off of the skeleton lumbering towards her.

Well, she was glad that worked, because honestly, she’s never really been clear on how to kill a skeleton, so she chopped the skull off the second lumbering towards her with the side of her hand.

“Kallian sees skeletons lumbering towards her,” Morrigan remarked dryly, “and decides to deal with it with her bare hands.”

“It’s a fucking skeleton,” she frowned, “am I supposed to stab it? Where? Why? I can just punch its head off.”

“It’s times like these,” Alistair said, “where I really realize just how bad-ass Kalli really is.”

They continued towards the door at the other end of the room, and after opening it, she promptly closed it again. There were signs of things with too many parts, and she was not about that life. 

“Well, you guys go ahead,” she replied gesturing to the door, “I’ll just wait here.”

“No,” Alistair frowned opening the door, “but I’ll go in first.”

With the deepest frown she could muster, she took her scarf out, and wrapped it around her head, since she didn’t want webs in her hair.

If this were the world of her last life, she’d probably be able to pass as a little old Japanese woman.

They managed to get past the things with too many parts, without her running, screaming, and getting webs in her hair. She took off her scarf and then deciding that she didn’t want to risk having tiny things with too many parts, she threw it into the fire before continuing forwards as if nothing happened.

There was a loud growl.

“Some architect clearly suffered from an unrequited love of the pointed arch,” Sten commented.

“I have a bad feeling about this passageway,” Leliana said, “why don’t we turn back?”

“I’m not going back that way,” she stated, “unless we burn the entire passage first.

“That smell…” Zevran said sniffing the air, “we’re definitely approaching some kind of lair.”

“Did you hear that?” Wynne asked, “sounds like… loud breathing.”

“I think there’s something ahead,” Alistair nodded, “something big.”

“Some manner of large creature lies ahead,” Shale replied, “perhaps it will eat you?”

“We should prepare ourselves for combat,” Morrigan sighed.

There was a dragon, these ruins certainly had a variety of enemies…

“I wonder how dragons fly,” she said looking at the wings of it.

“It has wings, does it not?” Sten replied.

“Wings don’t equate to the ability to fly, case in point: chickens are shit at flying,” she answered stretching out the dragon's wing, “birds are able to fly because they have bodies specifically designed to allow for it: they have hollow bones in order to reduce the amount of strain on their bodies, by decreasing their own weight, though this also helps them make use of air currents, and such in order to help them glide and gain altitude… Not only that but birds also lack four legs, yeah? Their wings are basically their arms, bats are similar… Dragons, on the other hand, are bulky, very muscled, have thick skin, and yet are able to fly just as much, if not more, than both bats and birds… By all means, their wing length isn’t enough to compensate for their sheer bulk, and yet they are still capable of flight… I wonder if they use some form of magic to help them get over that hurdle…”

She didn’t know if thermals had been a discovery here yet, gravity too, come to think of it, and didn’t feel like explaining them.

“How do you know all that,” Alistair asked, “but not where Antiva is?”

“Geography doesn’t interest me,” she answered, “animals do.”

Well… the map parts of geography don’t interest her, other parts of it did. Types of terrain, thermals, air currents, and stuff like that.

Just not what country was where.

“You did seem to know a great deal about wolves,” Wynne noted.

“And I told you, my ability to retain information on things that aren’t either in line with my interests,” she nodded, “or don’t directly pertain to my life is nonexistent.”

They continued forward, going down into what she guessed was the lower ruins.

More webs, meaning more things, meaning Alistair was her bait to draw them out so she could viciously slaughter them. Moving forward, they came to another hall.

Where she saw a ghost, she didn’t think it was malicious, so she didn’t feel the need to just flat out disappear…

 _“Mamae?”_ the Spectral Child asked, _“mamae na mara san…”_

“Calm down,” she replied softly, “tell me who you are, child.”

 _“Mamae! Mamae!”_ the Child replied looking around frantically, _“Mamae!”_

He’s looking for his Mother… aw.

“Calm down,” she repeated, “what are you seeing?”

The child ran away, and now she was conflicted.

On one hand, she hated ghosts and didn’t want to deal with it.

But on the other, what if it held a grudge and attached itself to her because she didn’t do a thing?

She decided to do the thing to not risk angering it for not doing the thing.

A door opened.

 _“Viran se lan’aan? Ir annala for ros…”_ a Spectral Woman said looking around, _“nae! Ga rahn s’dael! Ga rahn!”_

She sounded as though she were telling someone to run away…

“You… need help?” she asked, “are you lost here?”

 _“Ir emah’la shal!”_ the Woman replied assuming a fighting stance, _“ir emah’la shal!”_

Ah, they were being attacked by something and they had to defend themselves… Just what happened in this ruin?

Ah, _she_ was being attacked.

This wasn’t the time for thoughts, though now she was insanely curious. Something attacked these people…

Too bad it was history lost to the sands of time, and she’d never know the truth of it.

She felt a pull into a room, something was calling to her, so she went.

There was an elaborate artifact, filled with… blood?

“Hey… what do you think this is?” she asked gesturing to the thing that was calling her.

“Hmph,” Sten replied, “Elf magic.”

“Is that blood in there? Whose, I wonder?” Alistair replied, “you’d think it would be all dried up after so long… there must be magic involved.”

“We have little knowledge of the magic used by the Elves of Arlathan’s time… the magisters of Tevinter were more interested in subjugating the Elves than recording their history,” Leliana replied, “as it is, I would hazard a guess that the object you’re gesturing to is a form of phylactery, meant to hold living essence… perhaps even a spirit of some kind.”

“A device meant to hold a spirit, perhaps… such would be my guess,” Morrigan nodded, “though what might be left of any spirit within after such a long time trapped?”

“I agree with Leliana… it does appear to be a phylactery of some kind… the essence of a mage kept magically preserved,” Wynne replied, “if that were all it is, however, I would be surprised.”

“Well, it looks Elven, alright,” Zevran shrugged, “considering that what I know of our ancestors you could fit into a gem half the size… that’s all I could really tell you.”

“And I know even less than you do,” she said, “which is kind of weird when said out loud… Zevran knows more than me in this subject… yeah, it feels wrong somehow.”

“It feels wrong _hearing_ it,” Zevran replied, “especially since it’s true.”

“It is warm,” Shale said observing it, “there is a soul within this stone, that much I can see.”

She touched it, and then put her other hand to her head as her mind began swimming with memories experienced by someone else.

“Whoa… I already have two lifetimes worth of memories stored in here,” she said widening her eyes, “please don’t add any more.”

“ _Two_ lifetimes?” Alistair asked.

Oops.

“Well, it feels like I’ve lived through two lifetimes,” she replied bullshitting her way out of this, “the lifetime that was me, a girl being raised to become a servant, and then the one now, that is me as a person fighting to protect the world… or something.”

Everyone but Zevran looked convinced of that statement.

“True… Ostagar does feel like it happened an entire lifetime ago,” Wynne sighed.

The Presence within the gem calmed down, but then it felt… hmm… she couldn’t place it. But it wanted her to stay, she knew that much.

“Fine, I’ll listen,” she sighed and closed her eyes as images flashed through her mind and then said what she saw for the others to hear, “a cycle of sleep, madness, and sleep… a forgotten identity… an Elf? A mage in armor, from a time so long ago it’s hard to remember.”

“What is this place?” Leliana asked, “what happened here?”

“He… barely remembers… but he remembers a place of serenity… where the Eldest came to slumber and were visited by people offering tribute to the gods on their behalf,” she replied, “hmmm… not sure of what happened… but violence, war took place here a long time ago… Which matches what the Grand Oak said.”

“Was it a war with the Humans?” Zevran asked and she heard and felt him crouching down next to her.

“He… remembers Humans, but this was a time after the Humans had come… Humans had built this place, long before… it might have been a war with other Humans, or maybe something else,” she replied, “but… that something killed both the Humans and Elves that had been living here… He’s not sure what the something was.”

“How did he end up in this gem?” Wynne asked.

“There was… a great battle, Elves and Humans screaming attempting to run from some terrible presence… but he’s not sure,” she answered, “he fled into the Life Gem, leaving his body behind… he thought someone would come, and rescue them… but no one did… aww, that’s sad.”

“How do we know that it’s not a spirit trying to trick us?” Alistair asked.

“Doesn’t know how to prove it, chanting in an unknown language… not one I recognize, that’s for sure,” she replied.

“Then ‘twas a mage?” Morrigan asked.

“An Elf in silver armor, both mage and warrior… oh, impressive,” she answered, “the name for the order he belonged to was… ‘Arcane Warrior’.”

“What is an Arcane Warrior?” Morrigan asked.

“An order of… Elven mages who channeled their spells into their strength, fighting as Arcane Warriors to defend their charges… body modification magic, then, huh?” she said thoughtfully, “he’ll teach you if you want… but only if we’ll kill it afterward.”

“How would we kill it, exactly?” Shale asked, “shall I smash it?”

“It wants me to put it on the alter,” she replied, “and then it’ll break on its own.”

“I think I would like to learn this,” Morrigan said and she handed her the gem, “interesting…”

“Alright…” she replied taking the gem back and placing it on the alter she felt him thanking her before the gem shattered, “ _sayonara_.”

She wasn’t going to lie, she felt a little envious.

She died and got put here.

She hoped he didn’t get shucked into another life as she did.

After more walking, they managed to get to the place where the Werewolves dwelt.

They weren’t interested in talking either, but a bit further, she encountered ones who looked like they were.

“Stop! Brothers and sisters, be at ease!” the Leader said, “we do not wish any more of our people hurt. I ask you this now, outsider: are you willing to parley?”

“Finally willing to talk?” she asked with a sigh, “I’ve been willing to parlay since we first encountered Swiftrunner.”

“Not with me, no,” the Leader replied, “I have been sent to you on behalf of the Lady… she believes that you may not be aware of everything you should be… She means you no harm, provided your willingness to parley in peace is an honest one.”

“Why doesn’t she come and talk to us herself?” she asked.

“We would not let her… we will protect our Lady to our last breath,” the Leader replied, “it may yet come to pass that you will kill the rest of us, but until then we will not chance her coming to harm.”

“Such loyalty… you must really love her,” she commented, “why were you not willing to speak earlier?”

“Swiftrunner did not think it would matter. The Lady disagrees, and since you have forced your way this far, we must acquiesce to her wishes.”

“Then take us to her,” she replied.

“It wishes to speak to these creatures? What is the point?” Shale asked, “we’ve slaughtered our way this far, what’s a bit further?”

“Because I have a hatred for unnecessary violence and bloodshed,” she replied dryly, “surely you know this by now.”

“Fine, fine,” Shale sighed, “arguing with that logic will just give me a headache, I swear.”

“Follow me,” the Leader replied, “but I warn you: if you break your promise and harm her, I will come back from the Fade itself to see you pay.”

“I don’t deal in false promises,” she replied, “and I too, would rather end this peacefully.”

They followed the Werewolves into a chamber where she had to endure being growled at by all sides.

Posturing.

Finally, a woman… Witherfang, most likely, made her appearance.

“I bid you welcome, Traveler,” the Lady of the Forest said in greeting, “I am the Lady of the Forest.”

She really wished people would stop blowing her cover.

“My name is Kallian,” she replied with a polite bow, “I am glad that we will finally have this chance to talk.”

“Do not listen to her, Lady!” Swiftrunner growled, “she will betray you! We must attack her now!”

“Hush, Swiftrunner, your urge for battle has only seen the death of the very ones you have been trying to save…” the Lady of the Forest replied like a Mother admonishing her child, “is that what you want?”

“No, my lady,” Swiftrunner replied backing down, “anything but that.”

“Then the time has come to speak with the Traveler, to set our rage aside,” the Lady of the Forest replied, “I apologize on Swiftrunner’s behalf… He struggles with his nature.”

“As do we all, Lady,” she replied.

“Truer words were never spoken, but few could claim the same as these creatures: that their very nature is a curse forced upon them,” the Lady of the Forest explained, “no doubt you have questions, Traveler. There are things that Zathrian has not told you.”

“Ah, yes, the reason I had to suffer being called a fool, right?” she sighed, “I’ve pieced most of it together: you are the Spirit of the Forest who disappeared when the Weres came… you were bound to the wolf, Witherfang, by Zathrian himself… I’ve already deduced that both sides seek an end to this curse in some form or another. So, to that end, my only question is: why? Why would Zathrian create such a thing?”

Whoa, she felt like Sherlock Holmes.

“That you have found out that much already, is a surprise… but yes, it was Zathrian who created the curse that these creatures suffer,” the Lady of the Forest explained, “the same curse that Zathrian’s own people now suffer… Centuries ago, when the Dalish first came to this land, a tribe of Humans lived close to this forest… they sought to drive the Dalish away… Zathrian was a young man then. He had a son and daughter he loved greatly, and while out hunting the Human tribe captured them both.”

She could already feel her rage boiling, she already knew what happened.

She was an Elf, she lived with this same fear in the back of her mind.

“Hrrr… the Humans… tortured the boy, killed him,” Swiftrunner added, “the girl they raped and left for dead… The Dalish found her, but she learned later she was… with child. She… killed herself.”

“And as you had guessed,” the Lady of the Forest nodded, “Zathrian came to this ruin to summon me, and bind me to the body of a great wolf.”

“Witherfang hunted the Humans of the tribe, many were killed,” Swiftrunner continued, “but others were cursed by his blood, becoming twisted and savage creatures.”

“Twisted and savage, just as Witherfang himself is,” the Lady of the Forest replied.

“Ahh… I’m surprised he bothered to bind a spirit to a wolf and unleash a curse upon them, then,” she replied before allowing her rage to speak for a moment, “I would have brutally slaughtered them with my b.a.r.e.h.a.n.d.s.l.i.k.e.t.h.e.p.i.g.s.t.h.e.y.a.r.e because using a blunt knife to kill a pig y.i.e.l.d.s.m.o.r.e.p.a.i.n.”

“Ah, it’s Dark Kalli,” Alistair commented, “can you put your face away? It’s scaring me.”

“So the Dalish leader misled us?” Shale asked.

“‘Tis not so surprising, is it?” Morrigan asked in return.

“No, just trying to picture his little Elf head… squishing,” Shale replied, “ah, there we go.”

“They were driven into the forest,” the Lady of the Forest said, “when the Human tribe finally left for good, their cursed brethren remained, pitiful and mindless animals.”

“Until I found you, my lady,” Swiftrunner replied kneeling, “you gave me peace.”

“I showed Swiftrunner that there was another side to his bestial nature,” the Lady of the Forest replied, “I soothed his rage, and his humanity emerged. And he brought others to me.”

“So, why ambush the Dalish?” she asked, “for revenge?”

“In part, though as you guessed earlier: we seek to end the curse… the crimes committed against Zathrian’s children were grave, but they were committed centuries ago, by those who are long dead,” the Lady of the Forest replied, “word was sent to Zathrian every time the landships passed this way, asking him to come, but he has always ignored us. We will no longer be denied.”

“Hrrr! We spread the curse to his people!” Swiftrunner added, “so he must end the curse to save them!”

“Please, Traveler… you must go to him,” the Lady of the Forest pleaded, “bring him here… if he sees these creatures, hears their plight… surely he will agree to end the curse!”

“I’m fairly certain Zathrian only cares for his own people,” she pointed out with a sigh.

“He will never break the curse, my lady!” Swiftrunner agreed, “he will never allow it! You know this!”

“We… cannot know that,” the Lady of the Forest replied, “surely his rage does not run so deep he would endanger his own clan!”

“I hope so as well, seeing as I would like to end this as peacefully as possible,” she replied, “more blood than is necessary has already been spilled… I would like to end this cycle as well.”

“Outside of this chamber, the passage leading back to the surface has been opened for you,” the Lady of the Forest replied, “return with Zathrian as soon as you can.”

“It probably won’t take all that long,” she replied.

He was probably already in the ruins, awaiting Witherfang’s heart, his people were suffering, after all.

“I’d ask why old and powerful magical beings call you ‘Traveler’,” Alistair commented, “but you’ll just reply with ‘How should I know?’, right?”

“Yep,” she replied snapping her fingers into a thumbs up, “though, maybe I’ll tell you one day.”


	40. How the Cat Ended a Cycle

She pushed through the door at the top of the stairs, after letting out a sigh. This would be… annoying, to say the least. Old people can be hard to reason with since they’re stuck in their ways and too stubborn to see reason.

“Ah, and here you are already,” Zathrian said.

“I figured you’d be here,” she replied.

“Did you?” Zathrian replied, “aren’t you the intuitive one… There was no way to tell what would happen once you reached this ruin, so I decided to come myself.”

“And we need to talk,” she replied, “you and I.”

“Yes, yes, there will be plenty of time for that,” Zathrian replied, “did you acquire the heart?”

“Nope,” she replied shaking her head with a smile.

“You didn’t?” Zathrian sighed, “may I ask, then, why are you leaving the ruin?”

“So you knew about this place, then,” she replied, “and didn’t feel like telling me?”

“There was no need: I knew you would find it, and I did not care to give you a history lesson about things that have no bearing on your purpose here,” Zathrian replied, “but it seems the spirit convinced you to act on her behalf. Might I inquire what she wants?”

“What do you think she wants?” she asked in return.

“To survive, I suspect. That is the common nature amongst all such creatures, the will to survive,” Zathrian replied, “you do understand that she actually _is_ Witherfang?”

“Naturally,” she replied.

“She is the powerful spirit of this ancient forest that I summoned long ago, and bound in the body of the wolf,” Zathrian explained, “her nature is that of the forest itself. Beautiful and terrible, serene and savage, maiden and beast. She is the Lady and Witherfang both, two sides of a single being. The curse came first from her. Those she afflicted with it mirrored her own nature, becoming savage beast as well as Human.”

“No, it first came from you,” she replied.

“They attacked my clan and they were the same savages then that they have ever been… They deserve to be wiped out and not defended,” Zathrian shook his head, “come, I will accompany you back to the ruin. Let us go and speak to the spirit and I will force her into Witherfang’s form. He may then be slain and the heart taken.”

“Won’t you at least consider talking to them?”

“Why? You claim they have regained their minds, but they are still savage beasts… Their nature is unchanged. All they want is revenge… or a release that I will not give them. No, let us take the heart and end it.”

“Still so much hatred…”

“You were not there. You did not see what… what they did to my son. To my daughter. And so many others… You are Elven, you know what it is like to have injustice thrown in your face. Their crimes could not go unanswered!”

Images of Nola, Nelaros, and Shianni flashed through her mind.

Nelaros’ blood on her face, staining her dress, weighing it down.

Shianni laying battered and broken on the floor.

Her descent into madness.

But also her shame.

How she had felt ashamed of herself for answering injustice with injustice. Her shame from losing control. Her despair at knowing what her actions had done to those she loved most.

“Through violence, you may ‘solve’ one problem,” she replied, “but you sow the seeds for another… And now it’s your own people suffering, as well as them.”

“I have sworn to protect my people, and I shall. I will not lift a finger to help the descendants of savages who deserved the curse they received!”

“Will you not at least meet with them?”

“And what if it is revenge they want, and not talk?” Zathrian asked, “will you safeguard me from harm?”

“Unless you attack first,” she replied.

“I fail to see the purpose behind this… but very well. It has been many centuries, now. Let us see what the spirit has to say.”

They returned to the Weres in relative silence, and she stewed in her own thoughts.

This was a possible future for her. If she had been a mage, would she have done the same?

No, because people are more than their races. Those who aren’t involved shouldn’t suffer the punishment of those who are.

“So here you are, Spirit,” Zathrian said.

“Hrr! She is the Lady of the Forest!” Swiftrunner growled, “you will address her properly!”

“You’ve taken a name, Spirit?” Zathrian asked clearly ignoring Swiftrunner, “and you’ve given names to your pets? These… beasts who follow you?”

“It was they who gave me a name, Zathrian,” the Lady of the Forest answered, “and the names they take are their own. They follow me because I help them to find who they are.”

“Who they are has not changed from whom their ancestors were,” Zathrian snapped, “wild savages! Worthless dogs! Their twisted shape only mirrors their monstrous hearts!”

“He will not help us, Lady! It is as I warned you!” Swiftrunner growled, “he is not here to talk!”

She clasped her hands together and moved them behind her head.

“No, I am here to talk, though I see little point in it. We all know where this will lead,” Zathrian replied, “your nature compels it, as does mine.”

“It does not have to be that way,” the Lady of the Forest replied, “there is room in your heart for compassion, Zathrian… surely your retribution is spent.”

“My retribution is eternal, Spirit, as is my pain,” Zathrian replied, “this is justice, no more.”

“Are you certain your pain is the only reason you will not end this curse?” the Lady of the Forest asked, “have you told the Traveler how it was created?”

“Considering that everything I know is mostly my conjecture,” she answered, “not really… all I really know is that he summoned you and bound you to a wolf.”

“And so he did… Witherfang and I are bound as one being,” the Lady of the Forest replied, “but such powerful magic could not be accomplished without Zathrian’s own blood.”

“Ah… figures, blood magic, then,” she replied.

Though, thinking about it, she wondered if there were medical uses for blood magic… could it be used to move the flow of blood? And if so, then would it be possible to isolate the diseased blood in someones bloodstream and pool it into one place, and then release it in a form of bloodletting?

There were too many ways to abuse it though, so she probably shouldn’t bring it up.

“Your people believe you have rediscovered the immortality of their ancestors, Zathrian, but that is not true,” the Lady of the Forest continued, “so long as the curse exists, so do you.”

“No,” Zathrian snapped, “that is not how it is!”

“Just how far will you go for your revenge, Zathrian?” she asked, “hate begets hate, suffering begets suffering, pain begets pain, misery begets misery… one should never answer one with the same, all it does is perpetuate an unhealthy cycle from which no one can escape.”

“I did it for my people! I did it for my son and my daughter!” Zathrian replied angrily, “for them, for justice, I would do anything!”

“The curse would not end with Zathrian’s death,” the Lady of the Forest explained, “his life, however, relies on its existence. And I believe is death plays a part in its ending.”

“Then we kill him!” Swiftrunner growled, “we tear him apart now!”

“For all your powers of speech, you are beasts still!” Zathrian snarled, “what would you gain from killing me? Only I know how the ritual ends, and I will never do it!”

“You see?” Swiftrunner snarled, “we must kill them all!”

“See? They turn on you as quickly,” Zathrian said turning to her, “do what you have come here to do, Grey Warden, or get out of my way.”

“I don’t understand,” she said flatly.

“Have you not been paying attention!?” Zathrian snapped at her.

“I have been, and that’s why I don’t understand,” she explained, “how are you not tired? How can you continue to perpetuate this cycle? The ones you claim to want to protect and would do anything for are now the very ones who are suffering and in pain. Yet you do nothing. Your people are suffering because of your actions. Yet you do nothing. How can you do this and not be tired of it? How can you be the cause of such widespread suffering and not be tired of it? I don’t understand. Why must you trap everyone in a past that has no place in the present? I don’t understand. Those who have wronged you are long gone, yet you continue to torment others… You’re no better than they were… in fact, you might even be worse than them at this point.”

“How dare you!” Zathrian snarled at her, “then you die with them! All of you will suffer as you deserve!”

“And now you would be willing to doom an entire country by allowing Ferelden to fall to the Blight, for this. I don’t understand,” she replied, “there are only two Grey Wardens in Ferelden and Humans aren’t the only ones who will die: Elves and Dwarves will too. Is that really what you want? I don’t understand. If Ferelden falls to the Blight because you killed us here, then the Humans will blame the Dalish for it, and then Elven-Human relations throughout Thedas would deteriorate, not only that but they’ll probably be out for blood… You had the chance to help protect Ferelden but instead chose to kill the only two people in Ferelden who could do something about it. How is this any better than what they did to your daughter and son? I don’t understand.”

Zathrian stared at her with the same expression as someone who had just been slapped across the face.

“I told you we should just kill him!” Swiftrunner growled.

“No, Swiftrunner,” the Lady of the Forest replied, “we will not kill him… If there is no room in our hearts for mercy, how may we expect there to be room in his?”

“I… cannot do as you ask, Spirit… I am too old to know mercy,” Zathrian admitted finally, “all I see are the faces of my children, my people… I… I cannot do it.”

“Hasn’t this gone on long enough?” she asked.

“Perhaps I have… lived too long… this hatred in me is like an ancient, gnarled root… it has consumed my soul,” Zathrian sighed, “what of you, Spirit? You are bound to the curse just as I am. Do you not fear your end?”

“You are my maker, Zathrian… you gave me form and consciousness where none existed… I have known pain and love, hope and fear, all the joy that is life,” the Lady of the Forest replied, “yet of all things, I desire nothing more than an end… I beg you, maker… put an end to me. _We_ beg you… show mercy.”

“You shame me, Spirit,” Zathrian replied tiredly, “I am… an old man, alive long past his time.”

“Then you will do it?” the Lady of the Forest asked almost excitedly, “you will end the curse?”

“Yes, I think it is time,” Zathrian nodded, “let us… let us put an end to it all.”

She watched the Lady of the Forest bid the Werewolves good-bye.

Hopefully, now the process of healing can truly begin, now that everyone will be able to move on…

“May you find peace in the next life,” she murmured as the light consumed the two of them.

They were so lucky… She wanted an end too, but she had duties to fulfill first. A Blight to end, a King to make, an Archdemon to kill…

And now she was in a room full of naked Humans.

So, she did what she’d done in the Temple of Sacred Ashes: refuse to look anywhere but at people's faces.

Except a solid body pressed up against her back and a hand covered her eyes.

“Zevran… what?” she asked doing her damnedest to not focus on how nice it felt to be held in his arms. How she liked the way he smelled, and how _safe_ she felt.

Yep, she didn’t feel any of these things.

She didn’t like it at all.

Nope, not her.

Definitely not.

She didn’t like it, in fact, she hated it.

She hated it, she hated him, she hated…

Everything.

“It’s… over. She’s gone, and… we’re Human,” Someone said, “I can scarcely believe it.”

“What are you going to do now?” she heard Alistair ask.

“We’ll leave the forest, I suppose,” the Person said, “find other Humans, see what’s out there for us. It should be quite interesting, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps, you should find some clothes, first,” she heard and felt Zevran reply.

His voice was right next to her ear and she felt her body involuntarily shudder.

“True… thank you,” the Person replied, “we… we’ll never forget you.”

“Safe travels,” she replied.

She heard a patter of feet as they left, and then the hand covering her eyes disappeared.

“Zevran is definitely feeling territorial,” Alistair commented.

“Of what? And why?” she asked furrowing her brows.

“Kalli… I’ve thought this before, but you’re kind of weirdly oblivious, aren’t you?” Alistair asked, “like sometimes it seems like you catch on… but then you either forget or… I don’t know.”

“I’m fairly certain that that’s why her cousin meddled,” Zevran replied dryly.

“I don’t get it,” she replied tilting her head to the side.

“Ohhh… Kalli,” Leliana sighed shaking her head.

“Well, we should start heading back to the Dalish,” she sighed, “we’ll probably have to camp another night in the forest.”

“By the way, can we all just take a moment,” Alistair said, “and appreciate how Kalli settled that dispute by not understanding?”

“It was a very Kallian way of settling something,” Wynne replied, “by drawing attention to the effects their actions have on others.”

“But I didn’t understand,” she shrugged, “all I said was the truth.”

***

For a brief moment, the look on his Warden's face as she watched Zathrian end the curse was one full of envy.

She had looked at the shattered Life Gem that way as well. Though she’d wiped it from her face quickly enough, she was jealous of those who were finally allowed feel the release of death.

It made him wonder what she was like before. Before she wanted to die, before she had been broken.

Whoever broke her deserved nothing more than death.

Though they were most definitely dead, most likely by her hands, if her expression, tone, and words had anything to say about it. 

Considering her chat with the Lady of the Forest… All he hoped was that she made them suffer terribly in their final moments.

He still found her dangerous and more malicious side rather alluring and sexy. Much like the Lady of the Forest, his Warden had two sides, kind, compassionate, gentle, loving. But also terrifying, savage, malicious, and brutal.

“Kallian,” Wynne said with a soft smile, “I wanted to say thank you… thank you so much.”

“Hm? What are you thanking me for?” Kallian asked.

“For leading me to Aneirin, of course,” Wynne answered, “you led me to Aneirin. You persisted, even though I was sure all you were going to find was a dead end.”

“Like I said,” Kallian smiled, “there was no harm in asking.”

“I will never be able to repay you for what you’ve done for me,” Wynne replied, “finding Aneirin allowed me to bring that chapter of my life to a close. I feel free… a great weight has been lifted off my heart.”

“I’m glad,” Kallian replied.

“This moment… it feels like the moment before the sunrise, when all the world is still, holdings its breath waiting for first light,” Wynne replied, “I can stop thinking about my past, and look forward to the future… Thank you, my friend. You will always have my gratitude.”

“Of course,” Kallian grinned.

He could tell that his Warden wanted to wander off, but wasn’t sure how safe it would be to do so while in the Brecilian Forest, so she resisted the urge. He remembered his conversation with Wynne, he was an assassin, a liar, and a thief, yet she thought he was fine the way he was. She saw nothing wrong with the person he was, nor the life he’s led thus far. How she’d thanked him for being born. And he’s decided, that he will tell her after they return to the Dalish, and when he next catches her alone. He’ll tell her, about him, about Rinna, about what he was doing in Ferelden.

About the reason he wanted to die.

***

They managed to get back to the Dalish fairly quickly, likely thanks to the freed Spirit of the Forest.

“It is done… the essence of the wolf’s heart has banished all traces of cursed blood from the hunters,” Lanaya said, “it is too bad that Zathrian had to die… I… I felt it, when he departed. I think he was ready to go.”

“I do as well,” she replied, “and now the cycle of rebirth may begin anew.”

“It will… be difficult to fill Zathrian’s shoes, he was our Keeper for many centuries, and he will be sorely missed,” Lanaya replied, “but I am Keeper now. Let me say it officially, then: I hereby swear to uphold the terms of the ancient contract our people formed with the Grey Wardens. Call and we shall come, with great speed and purpose, and we shall strike at your foes. This I swear.”

“How long until your people are ready?” she asked.

“It will be some time,” Lanaya answered, “the curse leaves the hunters slowly, and they must regain their strength before they are ready to fight… It has been a long time since the Dalish marched to war… but I trust that, in the end, we shall make a difference for you.”

“Thank you, Keeper Lanaya,” she replied.

They should probably stay around here for the rest of the day and set off in the morning. They should return to Denerim, and then Soldier’s Peak. Or maybe they should go to Soldier’s Peak and then Denerim… Just in case Wade needed more time. How much time had even passed since they were last in Denerim? 

She forgot.

“You did it, outsider,” Sarel said, “you saved us from the ravages of the curse after all.”

“May the Creators bless you, truly!” a Woman replied.

“But Zathrian is lost to us, after all these centuries,” Sarel replied, “he died heroically, I hope?”

“The true hero is one who conquers his own anger and hatred,” she replied, “and in the end, that is what he did.”

“I would like a happy ending to his tale, he will be a role model for many Dalish children to come,” Sarel nodded, “now Keeper Lanaya prepares for us to enter into war alongside the Humans… I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“It’s super weird, right?” she replied.

“I, for one, look forward to fighting against these Darkspawn creatures,” a Man said.

“Do you now? Let’s hope you return and tell us all about them,” Sarel replied, “as for you, outsider… I expect I’ll be telling tales about you one day, hmm?”

They set up camp a bit away from the Dalish camp again.

“Were things difficult, Bodahn?” she asked.

“Not at all,” Bodahn replied, “we’ve traded for some good materials if I do say so myself.”

“Nice,” she replied snapping her fingers into a thumbs up.

“By the way, Kalli,” Leliana said grabbing her attention, “I was just thinking about what happened to the Elves and I… am reminded of a song sung to me, many years ago… it was… when my Mother died, and this wise Elven woman comforted me and told me that we shouldn’t fear death, or hate it. Death is just another beginning. One day we must all shed our earthly bodies to allow our spirits to fly free.”

“I’ve heard that death is supposed to be the final journey,” she replied thoughtfully, “I’ve also heard that you get to party on down in the afterlife until they kick you out with the reincarnation stick… I must say, that that one is probably my favorite take on it.”

…Though she didn’t get to party in the afterlife, she was just kinda insta-kicked out of the afterlife and got sent here. She had no doubt that that’s what happened normally, for those who practiced religions that dealt with that sort of thing but, she got the short end of the stick because gods are dicks.

“It’s a beautiful sentiment, I think,” Leliana smiled, “one that brings peace and hope to the grieving…”

She closed her eyes listening to Leliana sing, and she wanted to sing _Aloha ‘Oe_ but resisted the urge. She’d already messed up her languages.

And she really didn’t want to explain her circumstances because just thinking about it sounded annoying as all hell.

***

His Warden was wandering away with a bottle of alcohol in hand, and he followed.

“My dear Warden,” he said sitting down next to her, “there is something I would like to tell you.”

“Sounds serious…” Kallian replied, “should I be worried?”

“No… no,” he replied with a sigh, and she tapped her lap prompting him to rest his head there as she ran her fingers through his hair.

“But it’s still something you feel strongly about, right?” Kallian asked.

“How… how did you know?” he asked in shock.

“I can always tell when you feel strongly about something,” Kallian replied simply.

“You can?” he asked almost sitting up to look her in the eyes, “how?”

“Mhm, I can, but the ‘how’ of it will be my secret,” Kallian hummed, “so?”

Perhaps it shouldn’t surprise him that his Warden knew when he had strong feelings about something. She was incredibly observant… still, he was curious as to how she could tell.

“I… wouldn’t have spoken about it before, but… you have been a good friend, and there is no reason for me not to speak of it now,” he replied the word ‘friend’ sounding strange to him, “there is a reason I accepted this mission in Ferelden, far away from home, and it had nothing to do with any thought that I might leave the Crows… meeting you, after all, was quite an accident… My last mission before this one… did not end well.”

“Seeing as how you’re still alive, I’m guessing that it didn’t fail,” Kallian noted, “which means something else happened.”

“Yes… the mission itself was quite successful… it did not end well for me,” he sighed, “you must realize that until that day I was cocky and arrogant. I was the best Crow in Antiva, I believed, and I bragged of my conquests often… both as an assassin and lover.”

“What happened?” Kallian asked.

“One of the Crow masters grew tired of my boasting, and my bid for an incredibly difficult mark was accepted, much to my surprise: a wealthy merchant with many guards and completely silent,” he answered, “Taliesen agreed to be part of my team, as well as an Elven lass named Rinna. She was… a marvel. Tough, smooth, wicked. Eyes that gleamed like justice. Everything I thought I desired.”

“And you fell in love…” Kallian replied he’d noticed that her fingers had momentarily stopped at hearing Taliesen’s name.

“Rinna was special, I had closed off my heart, I thought, but she touched something within me… it frightened me,” he sighed, “when Taliesen revealed to me that Rinna had accepted a bribe from the merchant, told him of our plan, I readily agreed that she needed to pay the price and allowed Taliesen to kill her… Rinna begged me not to. On her knees, with tears in her eyes, she told me that she loved me and had not betrayed us. I laughed in her face and said that even if it were true, I didn’t care.”

“But that wasn’t true,” Kallian murmured softly.

“I convinced myself it was… Taliesen cut her throat and I watched her bleed as she stared up at me… I spat on her for betraying the Crows,” he admitted, “when Taliesen and I finally assassinated the merchant, we found the true source of his information: Rinna had not betrayed us after all.”

“You had no way of knowing that,” Kallian replied.

“Of course not… I didn’t care to know,” he replied, “I… wanted to tell the Crows what we had done, our mistake. Taliesen convinced me not to. He said it would be a foolish waste. So we reported that Rinna had died in the attempt. We needn’t have bothered. The Crows knew what we had done. The master who disliked me told me so to my face. He said the Crows knew… and they didn’t care. And one day my turn would come.”

“You have… such a gentle heart,” Kallian murmured, “did you know?”

“Not nearly as gentle as yours… you once asked why I wanted to leave the Crows. In truth, what I wanted was to die,” he replied, “what better way than to throw myself at one of the fabled Grey Wardens? And then… this happened. And here I am.”

“Do you still want to die?” Kallian asked though they both knew that she already knew the answer to that question.

“No… what I want is to begin again,” he replied, “whatever it is I sought by leaving Antiva, I think I have found it… I owe you a great deal.”

“You owe me nothing,” Kallian replied wryly, “considering that you’ve had thousands of chances to kill me by now… I know I joke around that cats trump Crows, but I’m fully aware of the fact that you’ve probably had a million different opportunities to off me… not only that, but I’m fairly certain that you could dodge the Crows without my help.”

“So, my dear Warden,” he said sitting up, “why do you wish to die?”

“…I knew this would come up,” Kallian sighed heavily, she looked and sounded tired, so very tired, “I… mentioned before that I had my heart shattered, right? It wasn’t broken, it was completely and utterly shattered… I was in love with someone, he was… kind, gentle, and had a strong sense of justice… a blacksmith’s apprentice… and he was in love with another woman. Set to marry another woman. But I loved her too, and to that end, their happiness equated to my own. All I wanted was for them to be happy together. And if I were to be completely honest, he was too good for me anyway. Far too good, in fact. He didn’t deserve someone whose checkered past had left a trail of bodies in their wake, a monster of their own making, a person who’d willingly dirtied their hands. As for the one he loved… She was kind, courteous, and she had an inner fire that blazed like an inferno, it was easy to get caught up in her influence.”

She had loved someone, but he had loved another woman?

“How did he break your heart?” he asked.

“He wasn’t the one who did it,” Kallian replied, “around the time that the two of them were going to get married, she got taken… by Human men looking to have a good time. When he heard, he immediately went after her. And when I heard, I immediately went after them both… Only… I was too late… By the time I got there, the Humans were long gone, she was dead, and he… he died in my arms… Once again, I was too slow to do anything other than watch him die… if only I had been stronger, faster… if I had just run faster then surely… but it doesn’t matter anymore…”

She blamed herself for the two of them dying, then. In her mind, it was her fault. It was all her fault. To her, it wasn’t the fault of the Humans who’d taken the woman, it was hers. Hers for not being fast enough, for not getting there in time to save them. He remembered how she had once said that she’d pushed herself over and over again after every failure. It was clearly a pattern she fell into, a habit of hers. She continuously blamed herself for not being able to save others, not any of the things that had actually gotten them killed, but herself. 

He had a feeling that there were still things she wasn’t telling him, still truths that she was concealing. This was an event that happened that had shattered her, yes, but there was something more behind it. There were things she clearly wasn’t saying.

But for now, this would have to do.

“By the way,” Kallian said after a time, “Taliesen… is he important to you…?”

“Why are you asking that?” he asked.

“He… he’s been sent after you,” Kallian admitted softly.

“What?” he asked grabbing her by the shoulders, “how do you know this?”

“Ignacio… the day we helped Alistair go gift shopping, remember how I disappeared?” Kallian answered refusing to meet his eye, “I was meeting with Ignacio… our deal was information for information… he asked about an Arl’s Denerim estate, and I asked about you.”

It was clear that she was blaming herself for this now, as well.

“Kallian,” he said forcing her to look him in the eyes, “it is not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

“Isn’t it?” Kallian replied with a smile that looked more like she was crying.

She truly was broken… and far more than he was… he was beginning to see that now.

Could he even do anything to stop her? Convince her that it wasn’t her fault? That she was a victim to circumstance just as everyone else?

He watched her extract herself from his grasp and begin wandering back towards the others, already setting the mask she wore to hide herself back into place. He grabbed her hand and pulled her back to him, wrapping his arms around her.

“It is not your fault,” he repeated.

“That doesn’t make me any less tired,” Kallian replied.

***

She had woven together a story of both truths and lies. The naive her had died that day with him, she had been too slow to prevent his death. The one he loved might as well have been another woman. Not the one she was now. Not the one who had given up, not the one who was just tired of everything.

She omitted Shianni’s part in the story, because, quite frankly, that wasn’t hers to tell.

Hopefully, that will get him to stop…

She was more trouble than she was worth.

A harbinger of misery deserves nothing more than death.


	41. How the Cat Found the Lost Peak

_The great Way is like a flood_  
_It can flow to the left or to the right_  
_The myriad things depend on it for life, but it never stops_  
_It achieves its work, but does not take credit_  
_It clothes and feeds myriad things, but does not rule over them_  
_Ever desiring nothing_  
_It can be named insignificant_  
_Myriad things return to it but it does not rule over them_  
_It can be named great_  
_Even in the end, it does not regard itself as great_  
_That is how it can achieve its greatness._

Another day, another act.

Another face, another mask.

The world was a stage, and she, a simple actress acting out her part as she courted death, as they danced together towards her desired end.

The Blight will end, and so will she.

She was actually rather looking forward to it… well… kind of.

She just hoped she wouldn’t get shucked into another life, memories intact. 

Just like the Life Gem, what she sought was oblivion.

“Ali-butt, what do you think?” she hummed, “Soldier’s Peak next, or Denerim?”

“Well… on one hand, Denerim’s on the way to Soldier’s Peak,” Alistair replied thoughtfully, “but on the other, I’m not sure if Wade has had enough time to finish our orders…”

“Exactly, so which one?” she asked.

“Hmm… let’s flip a coin,” Alistair replied.

“As expected of the protege of a playful trickster, let fate decide!” she replied snapping her fingers into a thumbs up, “uhhmmm… Let’s do heads Soldier’s Peak, Tails Denerim.”

“Right,” Alistair nodded and flipped a copper bit and she leaned over to look at it, it was heads.

“Soldier’s Peak it is, then,” she said.

“…I cannot believe that both of our illustrious leaders have just flipped a coin to decide our next destination,” Morrigan sighed.

“Well, one of them is a playful trickster,” she shrugged, “and the other is her student, mrow.”

“Just don’t become as willful as Kallian, Alistair,” Wynne said.

“I don’t think that’s even _possible_ ,” Alistair remarked dryly, “can _anyone_ become as willful as Kalli?”

“How am I supposed to know?” she replied, “I was born like this… the Willful Cat will always do as she pleases because she doesn’t know how to live any other way, nya.”

“How do you do whatever you want,” Alistair asked, “and still get everything that needs to be done, done?”

“I work fast,” she answered.

It should take four days to get to Soldier’s Peak from where they were, and she didn’t expect their actual business there to last more than a day.

She missed things, and those things were being inside buildings. The wilderness was never really her thing… There should be a village near here they could stay at…

***

Kallian and Zevran.

The Cat and the Crow.

If Zevran manages to get Kallian to let go of her past, she will definitely use that name for the song she writes about the two. A song about the most unlikely of lovers, the kind-hearted Cat, and the Crow who managed to capture her heart. About the Crow who loved the Cat and the Cat who loved the Crow. Who would have thought that the Cat would free the Crow and teach him how to fly? Who could have guessed that the Crow sent to kill her would end up saving her instead? That a Crow would fall madly in love with the Cat?

Actually, that one was not so unbelievable, Kallian was charming, charismatic, and confident. Kind and compassionate, with just the right amounts of wild and playful.

She hoped Zevran would be able to convince Kallian to let go of her past… Kallian deserved to be happy, just like anyone else… if not more so. Kallian was helping all of them overcome their pasts, and helping all of them to move on. She should be allowed to do the same, and yet she stood still… It appeared that both of their Elves were tragic beauties.

“Have you already composed a suitable ballad to commemorate the events at Redcliffe, Leliana?” Morrigan asked.

“Why would I do such a thing?” she asked.

“You have taken up your instruments once again, have you not?” Morrigan replied, “so to speak. A bard takes events of great import and puts them to tale.”

“What happened at Redcliffe was horrible!” she replied, “so many people died, and they were violated by unimaginable evil forces.”

“That was not so difficult, was it?” Morrigan replied, “you may wish to add music, however.”

“You make it sound as if you enjoyed what happened there,” she frowned, “I can barely stomach to think of it.”

“But we were successful in the end,” Morrigan stated, “victory without cost has little worth.”

“I just think of what that poor little boy went through,” she sighed, “no, I don’t want to glorify what happened there.”

“Then who will learn from these events?” Morrigan asked, “I would think on it some more, were I you.”

“Point,” Kallian said speaking up, “Morrigan has one.”

Kallian frequently had a book open in her lap while she either embroidered, sewed, or wove baskets… She was alarmingly good at multi-tasking… Years of poverty taught her well.

“Kalli… how can you read at the same time you’re doing all these things?” Alistair asked, “like you’re always reading while knitting, embroidering, or sewing.”

“Knitting, sewing, embroidery, basket weaving… I’m at the point where they’re things I can do mindlessly,” Kallian answered, “which means my mind can go to other places, like reading books… or contemplating existence, mya.”

“What kind of book are you reading?” she asked.

“This one is a horror,” Kallian replied, “about a crazed serial killer’s descent into madness…”

“…Don’t you read anything happy?” Alistair asked.

“Of course I do,” Kallian replied with an extremely light-hearted laugh, “but I was in the mood for some suffering and pain.”

“…Oh,” Alistair replied, “this is about where I back away slowly, right?”

“You don’t have these kinds of moods?” Kallian asked.

“No!” she and Alistair replied in unison.

“Huh… weird,” Kallian replied.

“No, _you’re_ weird,” Alistair replied flatly.

“This is true,” Kallian nodded.

“Kalli… I have a serious question for you,” Alistair said.

“I shall endeavor to once again give you a serious answer,” Kallian replied.

“What is your greatest fear?” Alistair asked.

“Not being able to do what I want,” Kallian replied seriously, “the word ‘submit’ doesn’t suit me in the slightest… neither does the word ‘obedient’.”

“An obedient Kalli… is a scary thought,” she nodded.

“Ah, and not being able to laugh anymore,” Kallian replied, “that’s also terrifying… The Willful Cat loves to laugh… wait why are you asking about my fears? You planning on killing me? If so, please wait until the Blight’s over and done with, yeah?”

“Why is your first thought that I wanted to kill you?!” Alistair asked in alarm.

“I dunno… I asked Shianni if she wanted to kill me too, once,” Kallian replied, “though, she was asking about my weaknesses.”

“Why?” she asked.

“How should I know?” Kallian shrugged, “it came out of nowhere… let’s see… hold on, lemme try and think of what conversation preceded it… Oh, right, she was asking me if I was involved with Alarith, the shop keeper in the Alienage… Yeah, that conversation came from nowhere.”

“Were you?” Zevran asked.

She wondered if he knew how possessive he was becoming in regards to her.

“How many times am I going to have to answer this question?” Kallian sighed shaking her head, “no.”

***

Once again, they were opposites: he wanted to begin again, and she merely wanted an end.

Could he convince her to begin again with him, rather than seek her own end?

He wanted to start over, and if he were to start over, then he wanted to do so with her at his side.

“By the way, Kalli,” Alistair asked, “why did your cousin decide to tattoo you over your scars?”

“Because she’s a sadist,” Kallian replied seriously, “also, because, for some reason, it became her life’s goal to turn me into a faerie.”

“A faerie?” Leliana asked.

“Yeah,” Kallian nodded, “no real clue why.”

Well, she certainly did seem ephemeral at times.

Bathed in the light of the moon, falling from the sky…

Though, she seemed to have a lot of faith in his skills as an assassin. Though she knew that he had wanted to die, and was therefore not fighting at his best. If he were to fight her seriously, he might be able to defeat her, but part of him doubted it. As she was now, definitely, because she didn’t want to live anymore either. But if she were to face him seriously as well? He doubted it. 

She may think that she was joking every time she says that cats trump Crows, but she truly did. She said that he’s had thousands of different opportunities to kill her, and truly, he did. But he had no doubt that she would have easily been able to fend him off. His own skills aside, she was a master of weaponry, and clearly a martial prodigy. She would give even the most experienced of Talons a run for their money. He’s watched her fight, she was incredibly lethal, and clearly knew how to maximize her own outcome potential.

He’s never met anyone who could manipulate their opponents to take hits from their allies as she could. Who used her enemies as both armor and shield to close the gap between her and her next target. Sometimes she dashed towards her target, dodging their attacks by a mere hairs-breadth in order to kill them with a counter.

Not only that, but the opportunities he’s had to kill her, were clearly ones she’d given him, as there were also the alarming amount of things she hides in her sleeves to worry about.

He remembered how he had told her that he had thought that Rinna was everything he desired, but she did not have the warmth and freedom that his Warden did. She was not willful as his cat-like Warden, and nowhere near as impossible to control. She was likely everything that Rinna would have aspired to be…

Did he want her because she was similar to Rinna…? Was he using her as a substitute for her…?

No, they had similarities, yes, but they were vastly different. He would never have to worry about his Warden being in the same position as Rinna because his Warden was far too clever and observant. Not only that, but she would have fought back using logic and reasoning, such was her way. She wouldn’t beg for her life, she would demand proof, and then sigh in exasperation when their proof was insufficient, whilst explaining everything wrong with their suspicions. 

He knew because it wasn’t just the war veteran Loghain, that she had seen through, it was also the centuries-old Dalish Keeper. And it wasn’t just them, she was good at seeing through people and straight to the heart of the matter.

Rinna… would have never been able to do that, and as enamored as he had been with Rinna… If he had met his Warden first, then he would have thought Rinna a poor replacement for her. As they were, Rinna paled in comparison… though perhaps it was because his Warden had never been recruited into the Crows. Though, it seemed that they had tried, but were dodged and avoided at every turn. Cats truly did trump Crows.

His Warden was an unparalleled beautiful, enchanting, and completely uncontrollable, monster.

Which made him wonder: just how did Duncan manage to force her into becoming a Warden? Even if he were to use the Right of Conscription, such words would be useless in regards to her. He remembered her shattered heart… he might have taken advantage of that and used it as an opportunity to conscript her. And if that were the case, then if the man were still alive, he would have gladly killed him. There was still too much he didn’t know, he was making progress, yes, but it wasn’t enough. 

It was nowhere near enough.

Though he was curious about this man that she had been in love with. Since he had died, it was obviously not that Alarith fellow. How could he have possibly loved another woman? Was she simply… too dangerous for him? Was the side of her that he found alluring the reason why he did not return her love? Well, not that he minded, since if he had returned her love, then his chances with her would have been less than zero. It wasn’t the first time he’s thought that, been grateful for her cousin’s meddling, been happy that her malicious and wild side likely scared off many of her suitors.

“Ah! Wait no I remember why she tattooed me now,” Kallian said suddenly, “it’s because I had once told her that what was broken can be mended, reforged… and often times it can become something stronger and more beautiful than it had been originally.”

“Ohhh… that’s a nice sentiment,” Leliana replied.

“Mmm… she broke her favorite cup,” Kallian recounted with a soft smile, “and she was sooooo sad… I helped her put it back together, putting a golden glaze onto the cracks and then having a potter fire it in the kiln again… Ahhh… the cup was so pretty afterward. And then she decided to make it apply to me as well. “

“And she decided to try to use the opportunity to turn you into a faerie?” Morrigan asked.

“Yes,” Kallian frowned.

They were staying at an inn, tonight, and of course he found her on the roof, such were her favorite places, she didn’t even glance at him as he sat next to her, continuing to stare at the sky. It was mildly infuriating that his Warden was electing to pretend that she hadn’t revealed a bit of her past, and continued to wear her mask. Pretending she wasn’t broken, pretending she had plans to outlive the Blight… even when they were alone.

“You know, my dear Warden,” he said and she hummed acknowledging that he was speaking, “I swore I never would tell anyone of Rinna… but it feels good to have spoken about it.”

“I’m glad,” Kallian replied with a soft smile, “getting things off your chest like that… oftentimes make you feel less like you are suffocating.”

“Then do you feel better?” he asked raising a brow.

“I said oftentimes,” Kallian chuckled, “not always.”

“Was becoming a Grey Warden a suicide attempt on your part?” he asked.

“How could it have been?” Kallian raised a brow, “I had no idea what Darkspawn even were all the way up until reaching Ostagar. Darkspawn, Blights, Archdemons, Grey Wardens… all of these were just words being thrown around that I had absolutely no clue what were… To be completely honest, when King Cailan mentioned fighting a tainted god I got so confused… I was like ‘wait… tainted god? How do I kill an ephemeral ball of energy? What?’ and then I tried breaking the words down… and that did not help at all. I had absolutely zero clue as to what I’d been drafted into… Thankfully, Alistair told me everything I needed to know… Whoa, that sounds weird too. Alistair knew more than I did… wait… am I just full of myself…? Hmm… I might need to get my ego checked…”

“No, no, I think that you are just fine the way you are,” he chuckled, “you do tend to know more than both of us in many different subjects… Though I must confess, imagining you wandering around in confusion is rather amusing.”

“I try to hide it as much as possible, and ever since becoming a Grey Warden I decided that I needed to step up…” Kallian replied waving a sleeve around before standing up to leave, “I think I will be quite happy once this is all over and done with.”

The thought of losing her one day chilled him, as they were now, she was already a large part of his life. To lose her… He didn’t think he’d be able to recover from it, he didn’t think that he would want to be able to recover from it. How could he recover from losing the person who gave him something he hadn’t even dared to dream about? For taking him from his gilded cage and teaching him how to fly?

“Kallian,” he said grabbing her hand to keep her there, “what must I do in order to convince you to start over again with me?”

“Nothing. There is nothing you can do,” Kallian replied before freeing her from his grasp and leaving, “and you shouldn’t wish for the impossible.”

He truly would lose her if he wasn’t careful, but this time, he wouldn’t lose her to anyone but herself.

A will strong enough to defy fates… 

He would truly need one if he were to keep her from dying.

So what does he need to do to acquire such a thing? Did his desire for her to live simply have to be stronger than her desire to die? 

There were still things he did not know, though, of course, there was still time. Blights do not end quickly, after all. Perhaps someone from the Alienage knew of a way to stop her. Edwyn and Jinan weren’t close enough to her, so they were out. That boy, Elroy, was also out.

But her cousins and her Father… They would know.

But would they trust a man who had been hired to kill her?

***

She clutched at the ring she wore around her neck.

Warm arms of someone who didn’t exist, a voice she didn’t care about telling her that it wasn’t her fault…

She didn’t care about him, she felt nothing more for him than hate…

That’s the only thing she can feel for him: hate.

All she could do was hate him, so she hated him. 

She hated him, she hated him, she hated him, she hated him, she hated him…

She wished she didn’t have to hate him…

…Why couldn’t she have met him earlier?

But what she wants doesn’t matter, nor do the thousands of other wishes that she held in her heart.

She doesn’t matter.

She was just a weapon, a tool to be used in order to end the Blight, and once it’s over, once her duties are done, she will be too.

_A sea of faces, everyone she’s failed, every life she couldn’t save._

_Every death she was only early enough to witness._

_Voices telling her she was worthless, weak, slow, incompetent._

_That all she could do was bring misery, all she could do was ruin people, that all she could do was corrupt everything she touched._

_Failure. Failure. Failure._

_She was a failure._

_“Are you sure you’re not just using me as an excuse?” Nelaros asked darkly, “a convenient excuse for you to hide behind?”_

_“What…?” she replied in shock._

_“Did you even truly love me?” Nelaros laughed ruefully._

_“I did!” she replied feeling tears in her eyes, “I did!”_

_“I doubt it,” the Masked Woman sneered._

_Zevran wasn’t the one she hated…_

_The one she hated…_

_Was herself._

***

Zevran seemed to be making progress, but at the same time, not.

‘Twould seem that Kallian’s infuriating stubbornness truly knew no bounds, as she simply allowed herself to drown in the ghosts of her past despite desperate attempts to save her. At this rate, they would truly lose her to herself. Why did she allow herself to drown in her past? Why did she not allow others to save her as she had saved them?

Honestly, were it for anyone else, she would not go to such lengths. Were she the same person she had been before she had met Kallian, she would have thought her a fool and a lost cause. In fact, if it were anyone else who did the things she did, she would have found them annoyances. ‘Twas strange that she did not mind Kallian acting as she did when she would mind anyone else doing the same.

Perhaps ‘twas because Kallian did not discriminate, she treated everyone equally. Whether they be male, female, Human, Elf, Dwarf, or Mage, she treated them all with the same amount of respect.

“You have a barbed tongue, Morrigan,” Wynne remarked, “tell me, why do you speak to others this way?”

“I owe you no explanation,” she rolled her eyes, “there is no writing on my forehead that say: ‘please, guide me!’”

“You are traveling with these people,” Wynne replied, “it behooves you to be civil.”

“You are too transparent, old woman. Do not bring up our companions, when all you wish is for me to be civil with you,” she scoffed, “I am not one of your Circle apprentices, to hang on your every word. I am not Alistair, who sees in you a surrogate Mother.”

“No, it is obvious you are nothing like Alistair,” Wynne sighed.

“Take your lectures elsewhere,” she replied, “they mean nothing to me.”

“I think Morrigan’s fine just the way she is,” Kallian commented.

“You think everyone is fine the way they are,” Wynne replied.

“Because they are,” Kallian replied, “don’t force someone to change, if they want to, then they’ll do so themselves… Like Ali-butt. He wanted to change, so he did, I didn’t force him to, I just helped him, nya.”

“…True,” Wynne sighed.

“And… Kalli wins again,” Alistair commented writing something down.

“Wah-ah-ah,” Kallian replied, “in any case, everyone has their circumstances, their reasons for being the person they are. Berating them for it is rather mean.”

“By the way, Kalli,” Alistair said, “why do you have moods for stories involving suffering and pain?”

“Mm… it’s usually when I’m in a bad mood,” Kallian replied, “their suffering gives me life… but since I could never intentionally cause someone that level of distress in reality without wanting to die for my sins… I’m quite satisfied with simply reading about it… messed up personality, remember?”

“You always sound almost proud when you say that,” Wynne pointed out.

“Well, I know who I am,” Kallian shrugged, “I’ve just accepted it as a fact of life and moved on.”

***

“Kallian,” Wynne said, “tell me: what does being a Warden mean to you?”

“Absolutely nothing!” she replied brightly, “or rather, nothing more than a means to an end, nya.”

“What?!” Alistair asked in shock.

“Well… I only began to care because the Blight threatens my family and that honestly shouldn’t be so surprising, considering that I never really saw myself living this kind of life,” she replied closing her eyes in thought, “but… this whole getting a position of power, and special treatment thing is really really weird. I keep wondering when I’m going to get my head cut off for my insolence, you know? I also _really_ hate the phrase that Wardens seem to like a lot… ‘Victory at any cost’, and any variation of it, mrow.”

“Why do you hate that phrase?” Leliana asked.

“Listen up, kids, Mother’s gonna learn you something good,” she replied crossing her arms and standing feet shoulder-width apart, “the phrase ‘victory at any cost’ basically means, you’re going to do something morally reprehensible, and that you _know_ you are but are doing it anyway. You’re just using the phrase to justify your methods, and there _is no true justification_. If you ever find yourself thinking ‘am I doing the right thing?’ you should probably cease and desist, because that question is a clear sign that your conscience is suffering… and if one day you learn to find that the cause you’re fighting for is unjust or there was something else behind it… Those tend to be the ones who are more apt to go crazy. Since they then think things like ‘then what was the purpose for everything?! What was even the point!?’ In fact, back when we were dealing with the people of Haven, I had to take a step back for a second and consider the situation, weigh our sins, and decide whether or not my conscience would be clear if I killed them.”

“’Weigh your sins’?” Sten asked.

“Mmm… let’s see… what was my thought process behind that, again?” she hummed, “ah, yes, I felt like a monster because they were a dragon cult, and thus, the dragons were considered their young. And that meant that we were disrespecting their religion. Not only that, but they were attacking us in order to protect themselves and preserve their ways. Which is enough to label us as ‘evil’ in their eyes.

“But on the other hand, they’d killed and tortured Arl Eamon’s knights, Weylon, and Brother Genitivi, and no amount of need to protect themselves could make up for the amount of suffering and death they’d caused to who knows how many others… Deities aside, their methods were way too extreme. Especially considering that they viewed them with pride. And then to disrespect the dead as well… I came to the conclusion that their sins outweighed mine, and therefore my conscience was in the clear.”

“How long does it take you to come to these conclusions?” Wynne asked.

“Mm… I dunno, a few seconds?” she shrugged.

“Kalli, what do you consider ‘justice’?” Alistair asked.

‘Justice’… huh? Well, this’ll be a good lesson for them.

“Whoa, hard questions today,” she replied and then clenched her fist, “sexy people in nice clothes, super fluffy things, and high-quality sweets!”

“And how exactly is that justice?” Wynne asked with a frown.

“How _aren’t_ they justice?” she asked in return.

“Because justice is about moral righteousness,” Leliana replied.

“Oh? And who gave you permission to decide on what my definition of ‘justice’ is, I wonder?” she asked, “’justice’ does not actually exist. Justice is a concept that varies from person to person. One man’s justice is another’s injustice. There is no basic benchmark to justice because it _doesn’t truly exist_ it’s simply an ideal. There is also the word ‘moral’ there, and that is something relating to what one believes is ‘right’ and ‘wrong’, and it’s not up to another person to decide what is truly ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ to another person. Different upbringings, different world views, different perspectives. Different views on ‘justice’, and different views on what is ‘right’ and ‘wrong’.”

“Kalli keeps challenging my world views,” Alistair said after a moment of silence, “and I’m not sure how to feel about it yet.”

“Enlightened!” she cheerfully offered, “but I am merely but a humble philosopher— a lover of wisdom, and philosophy covers many subjects and questions… though my particular interest is in ‘moral philosophy’ and ‘metaphysical philosophy’, and because of that, I need to be open-minded… ‘know nothing, question everything’… though sometimes ‘natural philosophy’ makes my head spin.”

“Why?” Sten asked.

“I’m really, really, really bad with numbers and equations,” she replied seriously, “and the nitty-gritty requires so much of it… so, so much… I think some of it’s super interesting… but numbers and equations easily get mixed up in my head, and then I apply the wrong formula to a problem and then it just all goes downhill from there…”

Asian and she was incredibly inept at math…

“It’s always weird to hear that you’re not good things,” Alistair replied thoughtfully.

“No one’s good at everything,” she replied.

“Kalli… do you hate being a Warden?” Alistair asked.

“Of course not,” she lied with a smile, “we do fight for a good cause, I just dislike some of their methods.”

She hated being a Warden, and she disliked pretty much all of their methods. Like their desire to have more secrets than the Antivan Crows, by the sounds of it… And many of them aren’t even _worth_ keeping secret, not only that, but some of them are even _detrimental to their own cause_. Also their ability to basically _enslave_ people, because, let’s face it: that’s basically what she’d been. She’d been forced into their employ, under no desire to become one, and despite her own protests and regardless of what she herself wanted. She wasn't even getting paid.

“Though, I would prefer to not have to spend my entire life fighting something,” she added with a sigh, “and traveling to fight something… and being at risk of running into things… with too many… parts.”

“You really don’t like them, do you?” Morrigan asked.

“Their… beady eyes are staring at me!!!!!!” her hands shot up to her head and then sighed, “to be completely honest… I don’t even like insects _in general_. I hate the things with too many parts, but they keep the other bugs away, so I’ll allow small ones to have their space, and have us both just mutually decide to do our own things and leave each other alone. But huge ones? Fuck that noise.”

“Are you sure that it’s not just because you don’t want to look at them?” Alistair asked.

“OF COURSE IT’S ALSO BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO LOOK AT THEM!” she replied, “but they really do keep flies and stuff away… I usually just made Soris clean up after them… because he didn’t mind them. He was actually quite proud of that, come to think of it… I wonder why… In any case, no, I don’t hate being a Warden even in the slightest.”

“But you always seem so critical of them,” Alistair pointed out.

“Is it wrong to be critical of something you like but wish to see improve?” she replied smoothly, “I mean, I was also very critical of your cooking prowess, remember?”

“…How could I forget…?” Alistair groaned.

“Well, you’ve improved a lot,” she nodded, “Mother is proud.”

“You are not my Mother,” Alistair replied flatly.

“I am not so sure I would like to be Alistair’s Father, as well, my dear Warden,” Zevran added.

“Why would you be the Father?” she asked.

“Well… who else would be?” Zevran asked in return.

“I am a strong independent woman, who don’t need no man,” she replied, “and therefore I am doing just fine as a Single Mother.”

“What’s wrong with wanting to give the boy a Father?” Zevran asked.

“You just said you didn’t want to be his Father,” she frowned.

“Neither of you are my parents!” Alistair said.

“He’s going through his rebellious phase,” she sighed putting a hand to her cheek, “ahh… what should I do…?”

“KALLI!” Alistair roared causing her to break out into a hysterical laughing fit.

They arrived in the village where Levi was staying for the time being, and met up with him to begin trekking towards Soldier’s Peak.

“Sorry you had to wait so long,” she apologized.

“No, no,” Levi replied, “after all you have a Blight to stop… I’m just glad you made time for me at all.”

“Ready to head out, then?” she asked.

“Whenever you are,” Levi nodded.

“Then let’s head off,” she grinned.

She left Alistair, Sten, Shale, and Wynne with Bodahn… Just in case there was something in the place that could tip Alistair off on how to end the Blight. She needed to be careful with the information she allowed him to have access to in regards to the Wardens… Morrigan already knew, and Leliana was curious about what could be here, and Zevran wouldn’t take no for an answer… She didn’t think she was in danger of Zevran and Leliana figuring out how to end the Blight… Though Leliana wouldn’t stop her, Zevran, on the other hand, probably, no, _definitely_ would.

And she couldn’t risk that, luckily, he didn’t seem to suspect anything, and thus had no reason to inquire further.

Thank the heavens that Alistair bought her excuse of having both leaders in charge of the two different groups.

They began wandering through the maze of tunnels towards Soldier’s Peak. She hated being underground, she had a slight fear of being buried alive… Come to think of it, wasn’t Orzammar underground? Maybe… maybe she can convince Alistair to handle it himself? He’s her protege… surely he could handle it himself…

Ah, wait, but she had a target inside of Orzammar… though Zevran and Leliana could handle it, and then she could wait outside the city. They were actually trained for that, she wasn’t. She was someone who was raised as a servant, and the only reason she was able to do all the things she was, was because her Mother taught her well.

Also because she cheats and has a larger repertoire of knowledge than should be allowed for an eighteen-year-old woman in this kind of world.

“And… here we are… Soldier’s Peak,” Levi said as they left the tunnels, “Maker’s breath… look at the size of her… What a fortress… I told you the map would get us through the tunnels.”

“How on earth did you manage to figure out the way through the tunnels?” she asked.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Levi replied.

“Try me,” she replied with a wry grin, “I’ve seen a lot of weird recently.”

“It came to me in my dreams…” Levi acquiesced, “when I was a lad, I tried going through the tunnel by myself. Got horribly lost… But every now and again since, I’ve dreamt of it.”

“Ahhh… clairvoyant dreams, then,” she closed her eyes and nodded, “why didn’t you mention it earlier?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was some moon-addled simpleton… I’ve my wits about me. But enough of that,” Levi replied, “I’ll follow you, from a distance… This place has the stench of death. I expect there’s trouble up ahead.”

“I wouldn’t have thought that,” she replied, “but yes, we should keep our wits about us.”

It was cold, and it was making her sleepy, but then there was also that unnatural chill in the air, that she hated and made her wide awake. Basic instinct was driving her to seek out a place where she felt safest, but she resisted because that place was in the arms of someone she hated. So instead, she wrapped her scarf around her neck and tied it with a bow.

“Some people call this place the Lost Peak,” Leliana said, “before King Maric’s decree, the last Grey Wardens of Ferelden lived here… oh, I just got the chills.”

“Once, the Wardens flourished, their ranks full, their caliber certain,” Morrigan commented, “now they even accept people like Alistair.”

“And me,” she added.

“Yes, but you actually _have_ skill,” Morrigan replied.

“Duncan didn’t know that when he set out to recruit me,” she shrugged, “all he wanted was the ‘Child of Adaia Tabris’, remember?”

“I wonder what treasures have been lost here,” Zevran said.

“Even if there were treasure chests,” she giggled, “would you be able to pick them open?”

Zevran’s frown just made her laugh even more, lightening some of the pressure she’d felt pressing down on her chest from the uncomfortable environment.

As they continued walking, she put a hand to her head as it went fuzzy.

“Fall back,” Someone, a Lord, probably, said, “fall back, already.”

Visions… of the past…?

“Taking the Peak will not be easy, m’lord,” one of the Soldier’s replied.

“I gave the Wardens one chance to die with honor,” the Lord replied, “instead, they hole up like cowards. We follow the King’s advice, then. Starve them out.”

“But the Peak has months of supplies,” the Soldier replied.

“Then we wait,” the Lord replied, “when they are too weak to lift their weapons, we will send them to their final judgment.”

The vision faded, making her wonder just how the Veil had gotten so thin here…

Still, how patient of them… She would have just smoked them out… or launched a bunch of bags of flour over the walls and have an archer throw a fire arrow at it… then again she wasn’t sure if they knew that dust particles like flour are _very_ combustible and that if there’s a lot of it hanging in the air… you should keep fire faaaaaaaaaar away from it.

That shit’ll go boom.

“Wh—what was that? I felt a bit woozy there,” Levi asked drawing her attention back to the present, “I’m not mad, am I? You saw it, too?”

“I’ve heard an Orlesian ballad about something like this,” Leliana remarked, “a beauty trapped in a dream… In the song, Bellissa never wakes up.”

“Your pretty friend here is making me nervous, Kallian,” Levi replied, “how is this even possible? The place must truly be haunted.”

“Mm… How patient of them though,” she mused, “I would have simply smoked them out… with either actual smoke, something with a strong and disgusting smell, or with an irritant…”

“Remind me to never get on your bad side,” Levi replied.

“Chemical warfare is… morally reprehensible, but unfortunately a very valid method,” she sighed, “though, I don’t think it’s nearly as morally reprehensible as psychological warfare… that one can fuck a country up for generations…”

“For someone who wasn’t interested in joining a military organization,” Morrigan mused, “you seem to know a lot about war strategies.”

“Ahhh… as a healer, you need to be prepared to treat all kinds of illnesses,” she replied, “body, mind, and soul… especially the mind, actually… There are many mental issues that can manifest physically… for instance, extreme stress can cause someone to feel like they’re having a heart attack, or sometimes even make someone feel like they have problems with the nervous system… it can even mimic the symptoms of rather extreme and very scary diseases.”

In her past life, her stress had once made her feel like she had a serious nervous system disease and went through a shit ton of tests…

Only to find out that it was stress.

And then a year later she got actually seriously sick and then after two years of fighting, finally lost the battle.

She had a feeling that it was an illness that had totally been curable, but had just taken an extremely bad turn… as such things are apt to do.

Then again, she died because gods demanded that she did… what assholes.

“Not getting on her bad side is excellent advice for anyone,” Zevran chimed in, “she is a beautiful monster capable of unmatched cruelty.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” she frowned.

“I have only compliments for you, my dear Warden,” Zevran grinned.

“What woman wants to be called a cruel monster…?” she sighed.

“Can we focus on investigating the keep,” Morrigan groaned, “rather than on you two flirting?”

“We are _not_ flirting!” she frowned, “at least I don’t think we are…”

Two lifetimes and she still had no fucking clue what flirting even was…

“Ah… skelli-bones,” she said noticing skeletons come to life, “whoa… those corpses are remarkably well preserved… I wonder if it’s because of the snow…”

Well, at least she was already wearing her gloves because it was cold. 

She used a decapitated corpse to catch arrows and closed the distance to take the head off of a few skeletons.

“Are all Wardens calm in the face of danger?” Levi asked as they ascended the stairs.

“No, I think Kalli’s a special case,” Leliana replied.

They pressed through the doors into the keep, and she immediately crossed her arms in front of her chest to keep herself from latching onto someone she doesn’t actually care about.

“The men’s morale is low,” a Mage said, “my spells are of no use in this matter, Commander.”

“There is more to leading men than sorcery, Avernus, I will remind them that they’re Wardens,” a Woman, Sophia, probably, said before turning to address other ghosts, “men, I won’t lie to you: the situation is grim. Our forces outnumbered. Our bellies empty. And our hearts are sagging. But we are Wardens. Darkspawn flee when they hear our horns. Archdemons die when they taste our blades… So are we to bend knee to a mere Human despot? No! I, for one, will never give up. I, for one, will never surrender just to dance on Arland’s gallows. So I propose here and now, in these hallowed halls where generations of our brethren stood vigil against Darkspawn and evil… That we send a message to that fat bastard. In this sacred place, proud men, strong me, stood defiant, and would rather die than submit to tyranny!”

“So brave, even when starving,” Levi said, “and my Great-Great-Grandmother stood with them.”

“I would have sent a few people out to light their tents on fire, and poison their food and water supply,” she closed her eyes in thought, “a few of them could work as a diversion, and then make the keep go quiet for a few days before setting that plan into motion. A false sense of security would’ve been their undoing.”

“As expected of a master tactician,” Morrigan replied.

“I’m not actually a master tactician… I’ve honestly just been waiting for someone to call me out on it. I see a problem, and then I work out how to solve said problem, that’s all,” she shrugged, “in any case… it sounds like there is greatness in your blood.”

“Oh, well… That’s kind of you to say, generations of Drydens have said that our stock were lions. Fierce, proud, and noble,” Levi replied, “but I’ve gabbed enough. Lead on, my friend.”

She saw a poster on the wall and moved to read it.

“On these grounds, virtuous men stood against a tyrant. They stood defiant and stood for freedom, and they died,” she read, “and then there is a list of names I’m not gonna read aloud… actually, I changed my mind, some of these are hilarious, ‘the Black Ferret’? ‘Chair-Thrower Lopez’? ‘Cartography Martyr’? ‘Dustin the Color-Blind’? ‘Ebenger of the Bovine Brethren’? ‘Farrell the Feral’? ‘Jason sans les Argonauts’? ‘Mad Dog Smeadows’? ‘McGurik the Vile Priest’? ‘Melissa the Magical Malefactor’? ‘Packrat Derksen’? ‘Santos the Silent Scimitar’ ohh that one sounds pretty cool, ‘Virtiolic Eric’? ‘Weak Eye Santos’? ‘Welburn the Exhaustive Fire’? Ohhhh man… so funny.”

‘Jason sans les Argonauts’… Jason and the Argonauts were a thing here? Wait, what? But that’s Greek! There’s no Greece here! Man… Jason was such a fucking tool, though… Poor Medea, she really got the short end of the stick… forced to fall in love with someone who just used her, and then threw her away… So sad.

“I miss Shale,” she said jumping out of the way of an attack, “I _hate_ fighting things whose bodies disappear!”

She saw a letter, that was still legible and scanned it, and pocketed it because she sensed that she was about to be attacked by something…

This kind of reminded her of what happened at Redcliffe…

Seeing a badly burned book, she went over to look at it, but it was too burned to actually get any information from.

Another vision of the past.

“The door won’t hold, Archivist,” a Woman said.

“Almost done…” the Archivist replied, “the truth must be told.”

“What does it matter?” the Woman replied, “we’re dead.”

“Our grand rebellion… so close…” the Archivist replied, “and to die here a stillbirth.”

“We never should’ve done it,” the Woman replied, “Wardens aren’t supposed to oppose kings and princes.”

This made her look to the side since that was what both she and Alistair were kind of more or less doing… Opposing a regent…

“Should we stand idly by while—” the Archivist was cut off by an explosion.

“Another one… rebellion?” Levi asked, “what’s this about a rebellion?… If only the book weren’t burned.”

“Ah, here,” she replied handing him the letter, “you should read this, sorry I didn’t give it to you earlier. There was danger.”

“They… were asking my Great-Great-Grandmother to overthrow King Arland?” Levi asked in shock.

“That’s what it looks like, yes,” she nodded.

They continued up the stairs fighting their way deeper into the keep.

More visions.

Yay.

“Make them pay for every inch, men! Hold the flank!” Sophia shouted defending against an attack before turning to Avernus, “Avernus, we need you!”

 _“Nelatep obresooth sythan net bekon!”_ Avernus said as he summoned a demon.

That explains why the Veil was so thin here.

“Andraste’s blood!” a Soldier said backing away in fear, “wh—what?”

“More, Avernus!” Sophia shouted, “whatever it takes!”

 _“Kaelee ai benfotus victus!”_ Avernus summoned another demon.

“Press them,” Sophia said, “press them now!”

But the demons began attacking people indiscriminately.

“No! I command you,” Avernus shouted, “fight the King’s men!”

“Fool… so much death, suffering, and oh yes… _blood_ ,” a Demon replied, “the Veil is torn now. Your soul is mine, Avernus.”

“Acolytes… retreat now,” Avernus said backing away, “the battle is lost.”

“Avernus!” Sophia shouted as Avernus ran away.

The vision faded.

“What just happen—” Levi cut himself off as more demons showed up, “oh no, more fighting!”

Demons, demons, and more demons… Gross.

She missed Shale.

“The Wardens summoned demons,” Levi said in shock, “I can’t believe it… and my Grandmother… she knew.”

“Ehhhh… Victory at any cost, or something,” she shrugged.

“I am beginning to see why you hate that phrase,” Leliana replied.

“I believed my family was better than that,” Levi sighed.

“She was a Warden,” she replied, “that kind of thing… is just part of Warden mentality. Plus, desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“But you would never stoop to summoning demons, Kalli,” Leliana pointed out.

“Of course not, if it’s not something I can achieve with my own power, then it’s not something I deserve,” she replied, “in any case, we should move on.”

“Right,” Levi nodded.

They continued moving through the keep, fighting the demons, and undead that popped up to say hello.

Well… this was certainly… interesting.

“Step no further—” a demon inhabiting Sophia’s body said before glaring at Diana, “get this annoyance away from me! This one would speak with you.”

“Why should I speak with you?” she asked.

“Because this Peak is mine,” Sophia replied, “this one is the Dryden. Commander. Sophia. All these things.”

“G—Grandmother?” Levi stuttered.

“You have slain many of the demon ilk to get here,” Sophia replied ignoring Levi, “this one would propose a deal.”

“Levi, I’m afraid your Great-Great-Grandmother’s possessed,” she said.

“That, or she’s really let herself go,” Levi replied, “my Great-Great-Grandmother is dead. I don’t know what that is.”

“So… why should I trust you, exactly?” she asked.

“What is one woman-child compared to your might? Strike me down if my terms offend,” Sophia answered, “a fool this one would be to betray the Traveler.”

“So, what ‘deal’ are you trying to strike, exactly?” she sighed.

“You can’t be serious!” Leliana balked, “there’s nothing left of Commander Dryden! She’s possessed!”

“Your fledgling should mind its place,” Sophia replied, “meek, subservient, quiet.”

“Leli… I’m a Warden, remember?” she replied with a smile after throwing a dagger dangerously close to Sophia’s face, “and please do not insult my companions.”

“Making deals with demons now, are we? I must say, the Crows have misjudged Wardens,” Zevran said appreciatively, “you are more cunning and ruthless than we suspected. Carry on. Do not let me get in the way.”

“Your Crow is wise,” Sophia said.

“Zevran, I don’t make deals with demons, demons make deals with me,” she sighed shaking her head, “so? What do you want?”

“This one will explain the deal, the Soldier’s Peak traps me. This one sees so many tantalizing places in the Dryden’s memories— this one would see the world herself,” Sophia said, “for me to be free, into the old mage tower you go and destroy. In return, this one seals the Veil. No more demons, no more enemies. Your Peak would be safe. Just let this one go into the world.”

“And what exactly are you planning to do if I free you?” she asked.

“This one will roam, this one will see, this one will _feed_ ,” Sophia answered, “but without me, the Veil will grow weaker— more demons, more misery. You choose just one of my kind or many.”

“What am I destroying?” she asked.

“The magics, all moving things, the very stone if you have the power,” Sophia replied, “something inside keeps my kind locked away.”

“First, seal the Veil,” she replied, “and then I’ll do my part.”

“This one smells the sweet stench of lies upon you,” Sophia replied, “you seek to betray this one.”

“Fine, I’ll do your errand,” she sighed shaking her head before holding up three throwing daggers between her fingers and tilting her head dangerously, “but you do your part first. Otherwise, the deal is a no.”

“Gah! Your offer is accepted,” Sophia grumbled, “come, follow this one.”

“Intimidating even demons now, are we?” Zevran mused as she went to retrieve the first dagger she’d thrown, “my dear Warden, you are simply driving me mad with desire.”

“Is this really the time?” she asked with a frown following Sophia, “by the way, that was a rhetorical question. Because the answer is no, this is not the time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Tao Te Ching Chapter Thirty-Four_


	42. How the Cat Reclaimed the Keep

He wondered how Kallian and the others were doing.

Kallian had said that she’d tell him if there was any necessary information that he’d need to know in there, and he trusted her. Ever since he’d yelled at her for withholding important information, she’d been rather forthcoming with any pieces of information that she thought was important for him to know.

Which was good news, considering that between the two of them, Kallian was the one who was a master of figuring things out.

The only times she didn’t tell him something, was when she forgot that it was something important, and let it slip from her mind, though she’s gotten a lot better at remembering important things.

He still couldn’t believe that she’d forgotten why Jowan needed someone to mediate between him and the Circle of Magi, despite being able to figure out that Loghain was involved in the events that happened there. How did she manage to figure out how Loghain was involved, and then forget that Jowan was a blood mage? Honestly, it didn’t make sense.

Idly, he realized that rather than waiting in this village, they should have split up into two groups and that he should have lead one group back to Denerim, rather than one group scouting the keep and another waiting in reserve.

Actually, why didn’t they think of that earlier? It would have saved them a few days of travel and keep them from having to backtrack, and then they could have just met up again in this village… Kallian was going to be sorely disappointed in herself once she realizes this. He had no doubt she’d realize it at some point while they explored the keep.

***

They followed the walking corpse that was Sophia Dryden, moving back to the room with the disturbing revelation that the Wardens had summoned demons.

“Gossamer strand only stand between this world and home, feel it? So deliciously weak here. So frail. The entire world should be as such,” Sophia said, “but this one will feed the Veil, make it strong… my brethren will not make it easy. Are you ready?”

“What am I supposed to do?” she asked.

“You keep the brethren away from me,” Sophia answered.

“And what are you doing?” she asked.

“This one will sew the strands together,” Sophia replied, “make lattice with pain, experience, and exquisite agony.”

“Well, no time like the present,” she shrugged.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Levi asked.

“Naturally,” she replied, “I am a Warden, after all.”

“You said that you would never stoop to summoning demons,” Leliana pointed out.

“I didn’t summon her,” she shrugged, “she was already here, I just accepted a deal, nya.”

“You are so ruthless and cunning, my dear Warden,” Zevran replied, “the Crows truly would have killed to get their hands on you.”

The demon inhabiting Sophia’s body began to move about sealing the Veil, and that question she had regarding blood magic resurfaced in her mind.

Ah, well, she supposed she’d never find out.

Especially because she was _definitely_ not going to ask a demon.

“And it is done, your Veil is strong,” Sophia said, “now you go, and do this one’s bidding.”

“No more demons will come through?” she asked.

“If they are invited, they will come, but they can not sneak through like a thief at night,” Sophia replied, “you rejoice, this one laments.”

“Well, off we go then,” she sighed.

“Yes, go!” Sophia replied.

There were traps on the walkway between the keep and the mage's tower.

Interesting.

After they pushed into the mage's tower, she leaned against a wall and sighed.

“Leli, now that she can’t reach us,” she said, “this isn’t the first time I’ve accepted a deal from a demon, remember? Amalia?”

“That’s right!” Leliana said in realization, “you accepted the deal… but killed the demon right after accomplishing what you needed to.”

“I don’t make deals with demons, they make deals with me,” she repeated, “as in, I’m the one in control of the situation, that is something mutually known. They know that I can turn on them at any point and that I can easily kill them if they try anything… But of course, I’m careful and leave myself a way out just in case things go south… though if I did fall for one of their tricks then obviously that’s my own fault, so it’d make sense I pay the price for my hubris.”

“You are so manipulative, my dear Warden,” Zevran grinned.

She hated that that was very true, manipulation was one of her main skills. Masterminding, having people do her dirty work for her in the back alleys of Denerim, getting people to kill other people for her. The City Guard being the ones who knocked on the doors of smuggler and thief hideouts when they went too far.

“Perhaps even more so than Flemeth,” Morrigan mused, “a most interesting observation.”

“That doesn’t make me happy, even in the slightest,” she frowned, “ah, well, to kill a monster.”

Seeing a letter on the table she picked it up, it was information on the Wardens… but, to her relief, was not about ending the Blights. 

It was about the Taint.

Alistair didn’t tell her this, though she wasn’t really surprised. A poison is still a poison, after all… but the Taint will eventually kill her, huh? And by the sounds of it, it’ll be through madness. Which blows. Though, it doesn’t really matter, considering she’s going to shove a sword into an Archdemon's skull and die.

Speaking of Alistair… a sudden thought crossed her mind.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!” she shouted and clutched at her head and then began banging it on the wall, “I AM AN IDIOT!”

“Stop that,” Zevran said and she could hear the frown in his voice as he pulled her away from the wall and covered her forehead with his hand, mimicking their actions at Haven, “what is the matter, my dear Warden?”

“I… Why didn’t I send Alistair and the others to Denerim while we took care of this?” she asked, “that would have saved us time and backtracking later! Arrrrrrrrrgh! I’M SO STUPID! I can’t believe I didn’t think of that! I’m disappointed in myself… How could I have not thought of that earlier…? “

“Only Kallian, would pull something like this,” Morrigan rolled her eyes as she freed herself from Zevran with a sigh, “when we are neck-deep in demon troubles.”

She saw a rather large book, one that was twice her own width when opened… Honestly, she’s seen a few of them by now… but it was still really really _weird_ to see a book that was almost as big as she was.

Curious, she knelt down to read it…

A research journal, by the looks of it. ‘The subject’ is not responding to stimuli? Wait… is this… Human experimentation? Wait… the blood is the key…? Hmm… interesting. Shame he was probably dead, otherwise, she could have asked him about blood magic.

“Sorry, Levi,” she said closing the book, “nothing on the Peak.”

They probably won’t take kindly to this, so she’ll keep it to herself.

She moved through the door, and… this was also interesting… and more than being simply interesting, this could be someone who could answer her question!

“Ah, I was expecting someone. Or something, please, come in,” Avernus, she guessed, said greeting them, “it has been so long since I could _focus_ , you see… but the rip in the Veil has been mended.”

“The… old Warden mage? Avernus?” she asked in shock, “you’re still alive?”

“Only just,” Avernus answered, “I have only a short time left.”

“How do we know you’re not possessed?” she asked.

“You’ve met dear old Sophia, have you?” Avernus chuckled, “my body is sustained from a similar source, but my mind and my volition are intact.”

“Careful. This man… has dabbled in matters forbidden by the Maker,” Leliana cautioned, “he may look frail, but don’t trust him.”

“So the Maker told you that, did he?” Avernus scoffed, “short-sighted men have forbidden my research, not any god.”

“He has a point,” she shrugged, “the ones who make rules and appoint laws are people, not gods, nya.”

Though she can say that gods are pieces of mother fucking inconsiderate little shits since she’s had an actual encounter with one.

“So, why are you here?” Avernus asked, “what is your intent?”

“I’ve seen your experiments,” she stated.

“They were necessary. Any tool, any iota of information that could defeat the fell demons was justified,” Avernus replied, “as a Warden, you should know that.”

“He has a point there,” Morrigan said, “if a single spell could win the battle, I would not question its source.”

“Your charming companion is quite correct,” Avernus said, “you’d do well to heed her advice.”

“Ehhh… ethics are kind of important to me,” she sighed, “I personally, wouldn’t make that call… if only so that I don’t force myself to wonder if I did the right thing… I’ve already got too many problems to have that kind of past digging its heels into my shoulders.”

“Says the master manipulator,” Morrigan said.

“Well… I’ve never wondered if I did the right thing in all of the things I’ve done,” she shrugged, “so… my conscience is still clear, nya.”

“How did you know that she was a Warden?” Leliana asked.

“A combination of my research and blood magic,” Avernus replied, “but even without that, who else would brave Soldier’s Peak?”

“Good question,” she replied, “Levi, go!”

“Master mage, uh, Ser, my family name has been worth less than dirt for over a century,” Levi said, “do you have any proof that my Great-Great-Grandmother, Sophia was a hero?”

“The boy who braved the mists, so you heeded my call,” Avernus laughed, “and you are a Dryden? The cosmos has a sense of humor.”

“Your call?” she asked.

“He was but a boy when he entered the tunnels below the Peak. His heart pure. His character certain,” Avernus answered, “in dreams, I gave him the keys he would need… he would be my deliverance.”

“Well, the least you could do is answer his question at this point, then,” she replied.

“Your Great-Great-Grandmother was the best of us… Brave, charismatic, fiery. Utterly devoted to the fight, but still, we lost,” Avernus acquiesced, “we fought against a tyrant, you know? So full of vigor, then. So blind to consequence. But proof? There’s none to be had.”

“Well… you still have that letter,” she pointed out.

“True… I do,” Levi nodded, “thank you, Kallian.”

“So, what even happened here?” she tilted her head to the side.

“What use would storytelling serve? The tyrant Arland is long dead. As is all our noble co-conspirators and the grand rebellion,” Avernus said bitterly, “Sophia’s corpse may walk and talk, but she too, is no more.”

“So then Arland truly was a tyrant?” she asked.

“He ruled with fear and poison. His treachery pit noble against noble in terrible battle. We thought him a monster, we gathered allies to rebel,” Avernus recounted almost angrily, “but the toll of years has erased our failure, hasn’t it? It seemed so pressing then, but the kingdom lives on.”

“What happened with the rebellion?” Levi asked.

“Too many mouths to quiet, even sorcery can only go so far,” Avernus replied, “so we met with Teyrn Cousland. With him on our side, we had a chance of victory… Instead, the King’s guard ambushed us. Commander Dryden and I barely escaped.”

Whoa… all of a sudden the future wasn’t looking so bright… Wardens staging a coup, with the aid of a Cousland… a rebellion against someone whose treachery saw a King die, and who ruled with fear, pitting noble against noble in battle… them also seeking allies to aid them in the Landsmeet.

“You practiced blood magic on the nobles?” Leliana asked in shock.

“Of course, to nudge people, to keep our secret safe,” Avernus replied, “Sophia should’ve let me nudge harder. Her scruples were her undoing.”

“You had to know that summoning so many demons was foolhardy,” Morrigan pointed out.

“Perhaps, but it was survival… for months, I prepared the summoning circles, researched the darkest depths of the Fade. That moment was a triumph of demonic lore. Dozens of demons called by my hand,” Avernus replied, “but with so many variables, I suppose calculation errors were inevitable. I was so close.”

“And my Great-Great-Grandmother knew?” Levi asked.

“She gave the order. I would have summoned the demons, anyway,” Avernus replied, “only under Wardens can true magical research continue… A chance to rediscover the secrets of ancient Tevinter.”

“Do you not remember how that ended?” Leliana replied, “the Black City? Darkspawn?”

“Chantry lies told to subjugate the mages,” Avernus scoffed, “to keep them docile.”

“How do you know the Chantry is wrong?” Leliana asked.

“And how do you know they are right?” Avernus asked in return, “their faith would have you swallow a great deal for small comfort.”

“I’ve been in a demon-infested tower,” she closed her eyes in thought, “as well as a Darkspawn infested tower… a lot of their, for lack of a better term, decor, shared many similarities… Sacks of flesh clinging to walls… then again, it could also simply be used as a tactic to invoke the most feeling of dread that they possibly can… it’s still interesting how they’ve chosen rather similar methods. So there’s still a chance that both demons and Darkspawn are related… but I wouldn’t know, because I wasn’t there.”

“Hmmm… an interesting observation,” Avernus said in thought.

“What was the purpose of your experiments?” she asked.

“To stop the demonic tide. To correct the miscalculations of the past… blood magic comes from demons. They could counter every bit of lore I knew. But the Darkspawn Taint. That is alien to them. And it has power.”

“Power?” she asked.

“The Wardens use it merely to sense Darkspawn. A triviality, my research has discovered so much more— hinted at even greater heights,” Avernus scoffed, “this knowledge could not only save Soldier’s Peak— with it, the Wardens could grow even more powerful!”

“How have you survived these many years?” Morrigan asked.

“The Chantry foolishly forbids blood magic— but there are so many secrets to uncover,” Avernus said, “as my body decayed, I found ways to extend it… but that can only go so far.”

“Oh! Me, me, me!” she said raising her hand and jumping around excitedly, “I have a question about blood magic!”

“You what?!” Leliana almost shouted.

“What is it?” Avernus asked.

“Most diseases and such are things that are carried within the bloodstream,” she replied, “so, using this knowledge, is there a way that blood magic could possibly separate the disease from healthy blood, collect it in one place, and then let it out via a form of bloodletting?”

“Hmmm… an interesting question…” Avernus replied.

“If we can figure out a way to do that, then wouldn’t it also be possible to cure ourselves of the Taint?” she asked.

“I cannot believe you are asking this!” Leliana glowered at her.

“Leliana… I have seen people ravaged by diseases no one could do anything about,” she replied, “families torn asunder… if this is possible… then think of all the lives we could save. Throughout Thedas. And not just the Wardens, everyone.”

Plus, she’s died of illness before, and it was the worst. Not just on her, but on _everyone_ , if there’s a way to stop that… then, honestly? The Chantry can go fuck itself.

“Well… with the Veil mended, I would seek to continue my experiments in peace,” Avernus said, “perhaps… there may be some merit behind your theory. It would certainly be interesting to test before age claims me.”

“No more dark research, though,” she replied, “figure out a more humane way.”

“Without test subjects? Without… other materials?” Avernus replied, “you would cripple my efforts!”

“Mm… you can use diseased animals for initial testing before working your way up,” she offered, “starting from rats, for example… and if tests prove to be proceeding well, then you can advance to a different animal, and see how the methods and such differ.”

“You would make a fantastic assistant,” Avernus mused.

“Ah-ha-ha,” she laughed, “well, I did spend time as both a healer and an apothecary… so I do have a bit of a mind for these things.”

Plus this was something done in her previous world, such is how they test medicines and such before moving them on to Human testing.

“What are you planning on telling Sophia?” Levi asked before they left the mage tower to return to the keep proper.

“Mmm… the truth: that what is trapping her here was something I could not destroy,” she shrugged, “it’s not like I was actually planning on letting her leave, in the first place, y’know? I agreed to _destroy what was in the tower holding her back_. Once I did that, I was planning on killing her since then I still would have upheld my end of the bargain… I still can, actually, Avernus isn’t someone I can destroy, because this is probably the only mage I’ll ever be able to find that’s willing to actually test this. It’s something that could be abused too easily, therefore, it’s not a theory I can trust with just anyone. It’s also a plus because _he actually knows what he’s doing_.”

They pushed through the door back into the Keep, where Sophia was _very_ angry.

“This one _rages_ , the tower still stands!” Sophia roared, “the Avernus lives. This one is betrayed!”

“Well… I can’t destroy stone,” she replied, “and Avernus isn’t someone I can kill either.”

“You are an oathbreaker,” Sophia glowered, “you are scum!”

“Then perhaps you should be more careful about who you make deals with, nya,” she replied with a cold smile.

“You are more cold, calculating, and manipulative than any of the brethren,” Sophia glared, “now you die!”

Well… she supposed a demon saying that she was worse than any demon was certainly an achievement. 

Wait… does that mean… her mentality is getting closer to the mentality of a Warden? 

Is she… completely losing sight of herself? Her chest felt tight, and she felt sick.

“You’ve done it, Warden. Soldier’s Peak is safe again… that old geezer Avernus deserves the gallows, if you ask me, but… people do queer things to survive,” Levi commented, “but… if he does proper research— without the sacrifices, and demons and all— maybe he’ll turn up something good… Still, I can’t believe what my Great-Great-Grandmother did… I’m not sure if I can redeem my family.”

“The past won’t offer redemption,” she offered, “try the future instead.”

“For so long, I was focused on the past, on answers. But I think I would’ve been better off had I stayed at home,” Levi said, “enough of that, though. I find myself at a loss. You’ve got a whole fortress now. I suppose I should start plying my trade again.”

“Soldier’s Peak seems like a lonely place,” she replied.

“It is… in time, it might liven up, though,” Levi replied, “you’re gathering an army, after all. A fortress may do some good with that.”

“Any chance I could convince you to stay on?” she asked.

“You know I’m no good in a fight… but I’m a fair trader, if I do say so myself,” Levi replied, “my cousins have been looking for a safe place to store trade goods. And the Peak will do nicely… Whatever the Dryden’s have to offer are yours, for a sizable discount!”

“Thank you, Levi,” she replied.

“The barrier between this world and the next will hold,” Morrigan remarked, “and in time the land’s scars will heal… ‘Tis done.”

“Let’s get back to the others,” she nodded, “since we have to go back to Denerim… because I’m an idiot.”

***

His Warden’s pout when Alistair had already come to the conclusion that they should have had one group go to Denerim while the other investigated Soldier’s Peak was rather adorable.

And she, of course, blatantly omitted the part where she was now in league with a blood mage.

They decided to spend the night at the inn and leave for Denerim in the morning.

“Zevran, this way,” Kallian said gently taking his hand and leading him away from the inn.

This was the first time that she had ever actually initiated any interaction between them. Even when she’d given him the gloves, he was the one who had followed after her.

“Well… this is certainly a first, my dear Warden,” he replied, “where are you taking me, I wonder?”

“I… just need you to do something for me,” Kallian replied finally stopping a good distance away.

“Oh? And what is that?” he asked.

“Stand there and don’t move,” Kallian replied before circling around him so that she was behind him.

He was incredibly curious as to what she was about to do, though, he highly doubted that she would stab him.

But he was completely unprepared for both of her arms coming up under his, to wrap around his torso, as he felt her press her body to his.

“My dear Warden,” he asked, “what are you doing?”

“Sorry,” Kallian apologized squeezing him tighter, “there’s something a little wrong with my head today.”

“That… is not very comforting to hear,” he replied.

“Just… shut up,” Kallian replied squeezing him again.

He’d thought holding her felt good, but being held was also nice. He tried to think of what could have distressed her.

Ahh… it was probably Sophia saying that she was worse than any other demon…

“I’m having an identity crisis,” Kallian finally admitted quietly and he could feel her trembling slightly, “am I… am I losing myself to the Wardens…? Is my mentality shifting to match theirs? Did… did they not only take my body but also my mind…? I’m scared of completely losing sight of myself.”

That’s right, she hated Warden mentality, she hated the phrase they do so love, ‘victory at any cost’ and any variation of it.

“You, are not my dear Warden, you are still as kind and compassionate as you have ever been,” he replied, “you did, after all, seek a peaceful resolution between the Dalish and the Werewolves, when you could have just as easily simply done as Zathrian asked and kill them all, did you not?”

“Oh yeah… you’re right,” Kallian replied and then released him from her hold.

He was beginning to notice, that she focused too much on the negatives in general, and far too less on the positives. 

The event that had broken her, had truly shattered her belief in herself.

“Thanks, Zevran,” Kallian said and began wandering back to the inn.

“Oh?” he said grabbing her by the hand and pulling her back to him, “are you just going to take your pleasure from me and leave?”

“Whoa! Word choice!” Kallian replied but let him hold her to him for a little anyway, “okay, you can let go now.”

He released her, he truly was getting somewhere, considering that she wouldn’t have told him about such worries before.

As they returned to the inn he wondered if she realized what she was doing, if not, he hoped she could stay oblivious to the changes in their relationship for a while longer. If she did realize what she was doing, then she’d likely work harder at pushing him away. He suddenly felt as if he were trying to befriend a wild animal… which is partially what he was doing.

His Warden had been described as a wild animal before, after all.

The thought was amusing, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at it.

“Zevran is chuckling for no reason, I’m a little concerned,” Alistair commented, “Kalli I can understand because she just randomly bursts into laughter and then laughingly states the memory she’s laughing about. It’s just a thing she does.”

“Pffff… Like how I like to laugh about how your most memorable trait is that you were covered in mud?” Kallian asked snickering, “and then you…pfffffffffff!!! Ahahahaha!”

“Yes, exactly like that!” Alistair said, “so hearing Zevran chuckling for no reason is concerning… so… what are you chuckling about?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing,” he replied, “I was just recalling something my dear Warden did.”

“Fueh? Me?” Kallian asked tilting her head, “what did I do?”

“I was just recalling how you slipped and fell in the Temple of Sacred Ashes,” he lied with a chuckle.

“I would have laughed at how I walked face-first into a wall,” Kallian replied dryly.

“Ah, yes, but you were so embarrassed,” he replied.

“Kalli is really adorable when she’s embarrassed about something,” Leliana mused, “though she rarely gets embarrassed.”

This was true, he would like to see her embarrassed more. Her red face, and attempts to hide it as she ran away was rather charming. What could he do to make her embarrassed? Or was she suppressing her embarrassment? That was likely, in which case, he might have to redouble his efforts. He knew she was sensitive to her neck and ears being touched, and to him saying her name… but if he used those tactics every time, she might build up a tolerance to it, and that was not something he wanted.

He’d rather use those tactics for more… intimate endeavors with her.

“So, other than you realizing you’re an idiot,” Alistair said, “did anything else happen at Soldier’s Peak?”

“A demon said I’m worse than demons,” Kallian said looking absolutely dead inside, “cold… calculating… manipulative… more than any other demon…”

His Warden planted her face into the table.

“You said it yourself, my dear Warden,” he pointed out, “to kill a monster.”

“True… to kill a villain, you use a hero,” Kallian sighed propping her head on her hand, “but the only true difference between a hero and villain is, honestly, just who wins… in the end, both are monsters of the same caliber… that’s right… all of us are just monsters killing monsters so that others may continue living without worrying about them… I feel a lot better now.”

“I’m glad you are because now I’m not,” Alistair replied.

“You’ll be fiiine, all you need to do, is never let go of your values,” Kallian replied waving the sleeve of her other arm around, “plus, I’ve already given you all the tools you’ll need to ensure that you’ll never do yourself injustice, haven’t I? I turned myself into a monster in order to protect others, I had no illusions of what I was doing, I wasn’t going to pretty it up and fool myself into thinking I was doing it for a just cause.”

“Sten once mentioned that you live, breathe, act, and speak according to your own code of honor,” Alistair recounted.

“Because I do,” Kallian replied, “I know who I am as a person.”

And to think just an hour earlier she was concerned that she had been losing herself to the Wardens, and getting stuck in Warden mentality, to the point where she had a minor identity crisis… The shock at being told by a demon, that she was worse than any demon really caught her off guard.

Of course, he didn’t blame her for being caught completely off guard by that, she knew her main weapons were deception, intimidation, and manipulation. But she also had a gentle heart and it had probably never crossed her mind that she was on the same level as a demon, and then being told that she was worse.

Two days in their trek back to Denerim, he woke up to their Wardens causing a fuss.

“You’re awake!” Alistair said as he left his own tent, “did you… did you feel it, too? It was like the Archdemon saw us! Saw us! What does that mean?!”

“Shhhhhhht!” Kallian hissed, “did you hear that?”

They were quickly beset by a group of Shrieks that they had to defend themselves against.

“I guess it’s like Duncan once said: we can sense them, and they can sense us,” Alistair sighed once the battle was over.

There was a sudden strangled cry of pain, causing them to all look to the source.

His Warden was clutching at her side, blood spilling out from between her fingers.

“Y.o.u.h.e.a.r.d.n.o.t.h.i.n.g,” Kallian hissed with the same ferocity of a wounded animal before she bunched up the collar of her shirt, and bit into it, as her fingers began gently prodding the wound.

“Kallian, let me see,” Wynne demanded as he and the others ran to her side, and all his Warden did was glare at her with wild and angry eyes.

“My dear Warden,” he apologized, “please forgive me.”

Taking a page out of her book, he used one of her techniques and knocked her out by striking her carotid artery allowing Wynne to begin treating her wounds. He quickly moved over to one of the Shrieks and inspected their weapons, they were covered in poison, but he knew how to make the antidote for this one.

“There is poison in the wound,” he said as he began preparing the antidote.

He tried to keep calm, but he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking.

“We need to not be here,” Alistair said taking control of the situation, “while Wynne and Zevran treat her, everyone else should begin packing up camp. We need to get to the nearest inn as soon as possible.”

Everyone began quickly following his orders without even the slightest hint of protest… she really had taught him well.

He gave Wynne the antidote, and she administered it, as she closed the wound with healing magic.

They carefully loaded her up into the back of Bodahn’s cart, Wynne having done as much as she could for now, and they began rushing towards the nearest inn. Morrigan cast a sleeping spell on her to keep her asleep, and manageable, since who knows what she’d be like once she woke up.

Especially considering how she was when they’d first tried to treat her wounds.

“But Maker’s breath,” Alistair sighed, “she really is a wild animal, isn’t she?”

“So it would seem,” Wynne sighed tiredly.

Once they got to the inn, he carried her up to one of the rooms and gently laid her down on the bed before being ushered out of the room so that they could change her out of her blood-soaked clothes and continue treating her wound. He and everyone besides Morrigan and Wynne stayed in the other room they had paid for. Worry plain on everyone’s faces.

She had been the only one injured during the ambush, and he was trying to figure out how she had gotten hurt. She was always careful in a fight and flowed around her enemies as water flows around a rock.

***

When she woke up, her side ached.

And she hated it.

Also, she was in a room, she had no memory of entering.

Upon closer inspection, there were bandages wrapped around her torso, which made her remember what happened.

They’d gotten ambushed by Darkspawn, and she’d taken a hit.

Now things were beginning to make sense again.

Zevran was sitting at the side of the bed she was laying on, head in his arms.

He was asleep.

And then she remembered that the fucker had knocked her out because she was being a tiny ball of rage. Honestly, she didn’t blame them for knocking her out, she would have too.

She noticed him beginning to stir as she absentmindedly carded her fingers through his hair.

“Good morning,” she said, “where’s everyone else and how l—”

She was cut off when she found herself pinned down onto the bed, hungry lips desperately feasting on her own as if making sure she was indeed still alive.

She ignored the feelings he’d tried to convey to her through it and pushed him away with a frown as she wondered since when were they in this kind of relationship.

To be completely honest, Zevran’s abstinence from sex was also kind of surprising to her. He used it as a coping mechanism, something that was common with people who had experienced sexual trauma, of which she had no doubt he had been a victim of. Especially considering that the Crows liked Elven recruits because Humans liked the way they looked.

He’d basically been forced into situation after situation because that was what his job had entailed.

She wondered if he knew this, or if he even knew that he had bitter feelings towards Humans in general… she probably shouldn’t point it out, or rather, she didn’t think that it was her place to point such a thing out.

If she hadn’t been on a path that would end in her doom, she would have loved to show him that the world is a beautiful place. But as it was, they were already getting far too attached to each other than she was comfortable with. It was a fact that she hated with every single fiber of her being.

Because it could only end in tears.

She knew because it was something she’s experienced before, after all… a day starting with elation, hopes, and dreams, and then ending in bitter agony and broken hearts.

“Where’s everyone else?” she repeated her earlier question, “and how long was I out?”

“They are in the other room,” Zevran sighed, “and half a day… there was poison on the dagger.”

“Yeah, I know,” she sighed, “it was one I had a high tolerance to… so I wasn’t really particularly worried… all that needed to be done, was to stop the bleeding and then dress the wound.”

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” Alistair said walking into the room.

“Yeah, so we should get ready to leave,” she replied getting out of bed and beginning to go through her stretching routine.

“No, I think we should sta—” Alistair began protesting.

“No, we need to get our asses to Orzammar,” she replied firmly cutting him off, “we’ll send a message to Wade, and then head on our way.”

“Why?” Alistair asked.

“The Archdemon is acknowledging us as a threat,” she answered, “this won’t be the last time we’re going to get ambushed… Alistair and I will take watch for half the night each, if either of us needs to, we’ll nap on the back of Bodahn’s cart.”

This also probably meant that they were running out of time.


	43. How the Cat and Her Companions Made Their Way to Orzammar

There had been a pain in his chest when his Warden had pushed him away with a frown.

In that one simple action, she had rejected him.

He knew that it was something she wished she didn’t have to do, and he knew that to her, it was something she felt that she needed to do. She ignored the changes in their relationship because it was something she felt that she had to do. She continued marching towards her doom, not even sparing him a glance as he tried to stop her. Never looking back, never faltering, just continuing on her path.

In her mind, she was doing this for his own benefit, not because she wanted to, not because of any reason other than she felt that if she didn’t she would hurt him.

Despite knowing that, it had still hurt.

And she would continue to reject him unless he could sway her.

He was getting somewhere, yes, but she was stubborn.

Incredibly stubborn.

But it seemed that he could be rather stubborn as well.

Stubborn, willful, and completely impossible to control, but she could be no other way.

His Warden would not be his Warden if she were any other way.

***

Kallian sent a very simple message to Wade, basically simply saying this and that happened, and it’ll take them a while to get back to Denerim.

She did praise him on his leadership capabilities after they’d set out, and he could tell that she was still extremely proud of him.

“Still, I can’t believe you apparently said the words ‘while Wynne and Zevran treat her’,” Kallian remarked with a laugh, “I wish I had been awake to witness it.”

In hindsight, the fact that those words had come from his own mouth, was strange. He hadn’t really been thinking clearly, he just knew that Zevran had begun making an antidote and that they needed to find somewhere safe to stay for the moment. He’d still been in shock about Kallian having taken a hit.

When he’d seen her wounded, it really drove to home that this was an _eighteen-year-old_ woman who’d been thrown into this incredibly stressful situation. She’d always seemed so calm and collected, and honestly, a little invincible that it was a little jarring. Everyone else had gotten nicked here and there before in fights, dealt with wounds spanning from inconsequential to moderately bad. But he’d only seen Kallian take damage twice before: once during the Battle of Ostagar, and again during the Gauntlet.

“Too bad you were too busy being an unmanageable wild animal,” he replied dryly, “and needed to be knocked out so that we could treat you in the first place.”

“Yeaaaah… sorry,” Kallian sheepishly apologized, “I don’t know what came over me.”

“It was quite terrifying,” Leliana recounted, “I’d never seen anyone looking so feral.”

“I must have been really annoyed with myself,” Kallian sighed, “to be honest, I still can’t believe I got hit.”

“Neither can we,” Wynne replied.

“Though,” Morrigan commented, “Zevran did make you an antidote.”

“…I needed an antidote?” Kallian asked tilting her head to the side.

“There was poison on the dagger,” Sten replied.

“Sorry for scaring you,” Kallian apologized, “but it’s better to be safe than sorry anyway, mya.”

“I’m just glad it wasn’t anything serious,” Leliana sighed.

“In any case, see, Zevran,” Kallian grinned, “you can use the skills you honed to kill people to save them, nya-nyon.”

“Yes, yes,” Zevran sighed.

“Annie, you should probably not sleep using one of my limbs as a pillow anymore,” Kallian chastised with a sigh.

Diana gave a sad apologetic whine.

“I’m still alive,” Kallian replied, “so it’s okay this time… but we might not be so lucky next time.”

Diana gave a bark of understanding.

“Yes, being able to actually feel my limbs is important,” Kallian nodded, “not the painful numb of pins and needles.”

“So it was Diana’s fault you took a hit,” he commented dryly.

“No, it was my fault for letting her use my thigh as a pillow,” Kallian replied shaking her head.

Diana gave an argumentative bark.

“No, it’s my fault,” Kallian argued.

Diana gave another angry argumentative bark.

“I’m telling you,” Kallian replied angrily, “it’s not your fault!”

Diana began growling as the two continued to argue.

“Fucking hell,” Kallian angrily huffed, “you stubborn figurative and literal bitch! It’s not your fucking fault!”

“A cat is having a full-blown argument with a dog,” Morrigan remarked dryly, “who would have thought.”

***

According to his Warden’s estimates, they should be arriving at Orzammar in roughly a week, and luckily, there were a few villages on the way. His Warden had taken to taking hour-long cat naps in a crate on the back of Bodahn’s cart… It reminded him of how he’d told her that the Crows had kept all their recruits in a tiny apartment near the leather-making district. He had told her that they had been packed in like crates, though, little did he know, that she actually liked being packed into a crate.

She truly was a cat.

His Warden popped the top of the crate she had been napping in off, and he saw her arms as she yawned and stretched before hopping out of the crate and off of Bodahn’s cart.

“Have a nice nap?” Leliana asked.

“Mhm,” Kallian nodded continuing her stretches while still walking so as to not slow them down.

“I still cannot believe you can sleep like that,” Wynne commented.

“It’s an acquired taste, for sure,” Kallian replied, “I kept getting stuck in crates and barrels, and eventually, I just realized that it was actually super comfy.”

“You’re weird,” Alistair replied.

“Very true,” Kallian snapped her fingers into a thumbs up, “I wasn’t called a cat for no reason.”

“I, uh,” Shale said, “may have a cause to apologize to the Sister.”

“Apologize?” Leliana asked, “for what?”

“For suggesting that the Sister is gullible for believing in things which were not real,” Shale replied.

“Oh, that,” Leliana sighed, “I’d already forgotten about that. Thank you for reminding me.”

“I suppose it would offer some… comfort… to believe that things occur according to some grand purpose,” Shale commented, “all those years I spent in Honnleath, unable to move, it would be comforting to think there was some reason for it.”

“Do you know there wasn’t?” Leliana asked, “maybe the Maker did it to bring you here, to us. You once said that you have no purpose. Perhaps you were simply looking for it in the wrong place.”

“Perhaps,” Shale replied, “I shall think on this.”

“So, Sten,” Alistair said, “were you really in that cage for twenty days?”

“It might have been closer to thirty,” Sten replied, “I stopped counting after a while.”

“What did you do?” Alistair asked, “I mean… twenty days is a long time to sit in one place and do nothing.”

“On good days, I posed riddles to the passerby,” Sten replied, “offering them treasures in exchange for correct answers.”

“Really?” Alistair asked almost excitedly.

“No,” Sten replied flatly.

“Awww… too bad,” Alistair sighed, “that’s got serious potential.”

“Where would he get treasures to exchange to people?” Kallian asked, “he was in a _cage_ … Where would he even _put_ them?”

“Good point,” Alistair sighed again.

“You seem to have quite the disdainful attitude towards Elves,” he commented, “besides our Grey Warden, my Qunari friend.”

“Don’t take it personally, Elf,” Sten replied, “I have a disdainful attitude towards everyone.”

“It’s true,” Kallian commented, “he does… for the most part.”

“You know, I have heard stories about your Circle of Magi, my dear Wynne,” he said.

“Is that so,” Wynne replied shortly.

“There is a Circle in my country, of course, but perhaps things are different here,” he replied, “I visited the Antivan Circle on official Crow business, once. Met a beautiful young apprentice who was very eager for a taste of the outside world…”

“Please!” Wynne sighed, “please, get to the point.”

“All I wonder is whether the Templars guard the mages here as closely as they do in Antiva,” he replied, “in Antiva, the Templars watch the Circle like a jealous husband guarding the chastity of a wanton bride.”

“Oh, so like how you watch Kalli,” Alistair laughed causing the woman in question to tilt her head in confusion.

He didn’t think he deserved that remark.

“Interesting metaphor,” Wynne sighed, “but yes, it is not too different in Ferelden.”

“And is it also true that when the moon swells to fullness, the mages of the Circle gather at the top of their tower and,” he asked almost eagerly, “naked under the stars, make love to each other.”

“What?! No!” Wynne groaned, “Maker’s breath…”

“Oh… I found out recently that it was not true in Antiva,” he sighed, “and hoped that it would be in Ferelden. Alas.”

“Even if it were,” Kallian replied dryly, “you saw the conditions of Kinloch Hold… I don’t think you’d be joining any orgies under the moonlight.”

“I don’t think he’d join an orgy unless you were in there anyway,” Alistair commented.

“I wouldn’t join one, anyway, though,” Kallian replied, “I’m just not that kind of person, and I never will be.”

“They can be quite fun,” he remarked.

“I don’t want that many people touching me with gross grubby hands,” Kallian replied, “I don’t want to be involved with that… filth.”

“’Filth’?” he asked.

“Yeah, literal filth, not figurative filth,” Kallian clarified, “hygiene is important to me, but it’s not important to everyone… just the thought of it makes my skin crawl.”

“You are a rather extremely clean person,” Alistair commented.

“Cleanliness is next to godliness,” Kallian snapped her fingers into a thumbs-up before shuddering, “but yeah… too many… fluids.”

“The Superior Warden is continuing to prove its superiority over its companions,” Shale said, “I knew I liked it for a reason.”

“’Twould appear, that both Kallian and Shale are what one might refer to as neat-freaks,” Morrigan commented.

“Shale was at the mercy of birds,” Kallian replied, “and I helped out at a healer's house and learned how disgusting people can really be.”

Well, he would never want his Warden to be involved in an orgy anyway. Such a thing simply did not suit her, especially considering how she saw men who tried to take advantage of situations… She saw them as prey to be hunted and eliminated. And she did hunt and eliminate, and she did so rather effectively, as well.

***

As much as he annoyed her with his lewd remarks and talks about Kallian’s thighs when she wanted to speak with him seriously, Zevran seemed to truly earnestly and honestly care for Kallian. She could see it in the way he looked at her, the way he talked to her, and the way he interacted with her in general. Though she could also see some of the deep-seated sadness leave Zevran, but the one that Kallian carried did not even so much as move, and that was something that worried her.

Kallian had done so much for all of them, she did not think she could find and reconcile with Aneirin, and yet she did. She helped Alistair meet his sister, and taught him how to become a good king, one the country would need once Loghain had been deposed. Likewise, Leliana was now free of her own past… and as much as she didn’t agree with her decision, Morrigan was also now free.

“You remind me of Lady Cecilie,” Leliana commented looking at her.

“Who?” she asked.

“She was an Orlesian lady,” Leliana explained, “my Mother served her until she died, and Lady Cecilie let me stay, instead of turning me out on the street… you are like her in some ways. You have the same poise, the same air of nobility.”

“Oh, child,” she chuckled, “I am hardly noble.”

“I learned that nobility isn’t just something you are born with,” Leliana replied, “I have met nobles who were petty and mean— complete degenerates.”

“Me too!” Kallian chimed in, “they’re dead!”

“Because _you_ killed them,” Alistair pointed out.

“No, because I _didn’t prevent their deaths_ ,” Kallian corrected clicking her tongue in disappointment, “get it right.”

“And that’s different from killing them how?” Alistair asked.

“Well… what was I, a young Elven woman,” Kallian replied, “supposed to do in a fight with a group of smugglers, and a group of nobles? My self-preservation instincts kept me out of the fight.”

“And how did they get into contact with the smugglers?” Alistair asked.

“By chasing an untouchable flower,” Kallian shrugged, “one of the oldest tales in the book, really.”

“Then there are people with a certain dignity and grace,” Leliana continued, “it draws you to them, no matter who you are, or who they are… I think the lowest peasant can have the most noble spirit and it will always shine through… It is this nobility of spirit that you share with Cecilie.”

“Why… thank you, Leliana… It is very kind of you to say that,” she replied, “though I don’t think I’m quite as dignified and graceful as Kallian.”

“I live with love,” Kallian replied, “and I don’t know how to not.”

“’Tis strange… had anyone but Kallian utter those words, I would call them an idiotic liar,” Morrigan commented, “but when Kallian utters them, I do not mind it so much.”

“Probably because with Kalli it isn’t just talk,” Alistair replied, “and you can tell it’s not.”

“Huh… I really am just the common ground for everyone to agree on, aren’t I?” Kallian mused, “how interesting.”

***

_Those who wish to take the world and control it_  
 _I see that they cannot succeed_  
 _The world is a sacred instrument_  
 _One cannot control it_  
 _The one who controls it will fail_  
 _The one who grasps it will lose_  
 _Thus all things:_  
 _Either lead or follow_  
 _Either blow hot or cold_  
 _Either have strength or weakness_  
 _Either have ownership or take by force_  
 _Therefore the sage:_  
 _Eliminates extremes_  
 _Eliminates excess_  
 _Eliminates arrogance._

Staying at an inn had never felt so good before. 

Alistair always took first watch, and she took second.

But staying up half the night and then trying to be a functioning person the next day was pretty brutal.

She couldn’t wander off as she wanted, because the chances of getting ambushed again were pretty high, also because she wanted to get in as much sleep as possible, considering that she was now getting much, much, much less sleep than before. They should be at the Frostback Mountains in a few days, and at this point, she just hoped Arl Eamon would be ready by the time they were done with the Dwarves. She wasn’t sure if they were actually running out of time or not, but it wasn’t really a risk she wanted to take.

Though considering the fact that now even the _Archdemon_ was trying to assassinate her was rather amusing. Hated by both Loghain and the Archdemon, to the point where they had both sent assassins after them.

“The Archdemon needs to die,” she grumbled into the table her face was planted in, “like… now.”

“Well, short of waltzing through the entire Darkspawn horde and tapping it on the nose, I’m not sure just how we’re supposed to do that,” Alistair replied, “but yes, killing the Archdemon is the general plan, I understand. Good to have you on board.”

“I’ve thought about your predicament, my friend,” Zevran commented to Shale.

“It has thought of a way to lure birds out of the sky?” Shale asked.

“I mean, your situation… being made of stone, and such,” Zevran replied, “I imagine it must be terrible for you to see others… together. You know.”

“Together,” Shale replied, “as in standing next to one another?”

“I speak of love, my sturdy friend. And the act of love,” Zevran replied and she groaned in exasperation, “surely this must bring you discomfort, knowing you can never partake in such pleasures.”

“That is disgusting,” Shale scoffed as she propped her head upon her hand boredly, “it was bad enough that I had to suffer the occasional pair of villagers lying in my shade, but the idea of partaking? Gah!”

“You are stoic, my friend. And brave,” Zevran replied, “you do us a great honor by suffering in silence.”

“I was not suffering,” Shale replied, “silently or otherwise. Until now.”

“I understand,” Zevran replied.

“I am curious, however,” Shale replied, “will the Painted Elf answer a question?”

“Why not?” Zevran asked in return.

“The Painted Elf attacked the Superior Warden, and yet it still lives,” Shale replied, “had the decision been mine, its skull would be so much pulp right now.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Zevran mused, “could you destroy something as pretty as I am, hmm?”

“Easily,” Shale replied, “I fail to see how any measure of attractiveness would make one difficult to crush.”

“Perhaps you do not know how to look, then,” Zevran replied before gesturing to her, “take a long look at our Grey Warden, my good friend. Right there, we have a woman worthy of worship, no? One would have to be blind not to realize how very pretty we all are and how important that is to preserve.”

“Hmph,” Shale huffed, “perhaps there are definitions of ‘blind’ I have yet to understand.”

“Why do people keep talking about me as if I’m not right here?” she asked, “ah, is it because you actually wish I weren’t here? I mean, you could have just said something rather than going through this convoluted process.”

She stood up and began to leave but was stopped by a hand grabbing onto her.

“My dear Warden,” Zevran said, “surely you can see that we are speaking of you favorably, yes?”

“Favorably or not,” she replied dryly but sat back down anyway, “that doesn’t mean that you’re not discussing me as if I’m not here.”

“So why _did_ the Superior Warden spare the Painted Elf?” Shale asked.

“Pity,” she answered.

“Then why bring it along with it?” Shale asked.

“Also pity,” she answered.

“You are so very compassionate, my dear Warden,” Zevran purred.

“Well… it was the exact angle you were aiming for,” she shrugged, “you wanted me to pity you, and specifically appealed to both my maternal instincts and the hardships of our shared race.”

“Wait… you _knew_ what he was doing and brought him along anyway?!” Alistair asked in shock.

“Naturally, I can always tell when people are trying to use me for one reason or another, whether I play along or not is my choice,” she replied, “and I decided to play along… and it’s not like he’s been detrimental to our cause, so I’m satisfied with how things are.”

“True,” Alistair sighed.

“Also, don’t forget that you’re the one who asked him for tips on how to ‘woo’ a woman,” she said before breaking out into a hysterical laughing fit, “pfffffffffffff… so funny.”

“You’re really never going to let me live that down,” Alistair grumbled.

“The day I let you live that down is the day I die,” she laughed waving a sleeve around.

“Great… I have a long life ahead of me,” Alistair sighed.

“Yep,” she lied, “better get used to the idea of me laughing at your silliness for the rest of our lives.”

She wondered if he’d wish she were there to laugh at him about silly things after the Blight was over.

After she had lain down her life in order to protect the people she loved.

She hoped he would forgive her for all her lies, for hiding the truth, and for playing along with his dreams for a future that was never to be.

Zevran was looking at her and shaking his head and clicking his tongue.

“You look so tired, my dear,” Zevran said, “it is all this constant walking, and fighting… I think I know what you need.”

“Sleep!” she replied cheerfully standing up to return to the room she was staying in with Morrigan while dodging away from any attempt that may have been made to stop her.

She could hear Alistair’s boisterous laughter as she unlocked and entered the room.

She needed him to get out of her head.

Needed to get his warmth out of her head.

Needed to get the feeling of him holding her, of the taste of his lips and tongue, of the smell of him, of his eyes, of the sound of his voice out of her head.

What she felt for him was nothing but hate.

Hate, hate, hate, hate, hatehatehatehatehateHATEHATEHATEHATEHATE!

She hated him.

She hated him, she hated him, she hated him, shehatedhimshehatedhimSHEHATEDHIMSHEHATEDHIMSHEHATEDHIMSHEHATEDHIM!

SHE.

HATED.

HIM.

She really must have insulted the gods somehow… otherwise… surely they would have never tormented her like this.

She’s already accepted her fate, why are they tormenting her like this? Why is _he_ tormenting her like this? Why couldn’t he just give up…? Why did he have to keep trying to stop her? Why?

It hurt.

Everything hurt.

Denial could only get a person so far, and she’s far past that point.

But it’s all she has, so she’ll continue to cling to it, hold onto it, and bring it with her.

Because that’s all she can do.

She hugged Diana tightly and buried her face in her shoulder.

Upon reaching the Frostback Mountains, there had a bit of a welcome party thrown for them.

By men sent by Loghain.

Was this how Tito felt?

_‘Stop sending people to kill me… if you don’t stop sending killers, I’ll send one to Moscow, and I won’t have to send a second.’_

“I’m really getting tired of everyone wanting us dead,” she groaned, “if you told me that I was going to be subject to this kind of treatment a year ago, I would’ve died laughing… to the point where even my ghost would be laughing.”

“Right?” Alistair agreed with a sigh, “well, I probably wouldn’t have died laughing, but I probably would have laughed my ass off.”

“Well, at least we’ll get to see everyone who wants us dead die,” she replied cheerfully, “Loghain, the Archdemon… they’ll be dead and gone by the time we’re done with them.”

“Right… and the streak of you scaring me continues,” Alistair replied.

“What’s life without a little danger, am I right?” Zevran chimed in.

“Peaceful,” she answered.

“Sounds bloody boring if you ask me,” Zevran replied.

“I didn’t, but just because there’s no danger in your life, doesn’t mean it’s not eventful,” she replied before trying to hold back her laughter, “I mean there are times, for instance, where you get to watch a bunch of idiots try to figure out how to do something… it’s hilarious… their first instinct was to look for me, but I was on a roof people watching, so when they couldn’t find me they huddled up together to try and work it out between them. I laughed for a good three days after that.”

“Did they figure out how to do the thing?” Alistair asked.

“Only because I fell off the roof laughing my ass off,” she replied, “which honestly just made me laugh even harder… danger isn’t necessary for entertainment.”

A sudden and rather strange thought popped into her mind, and she didn’t know where this thought came from.

She wondered if noodles were a thing in this world, because there was no China, and noodles originated in China.

Like everything else.

What kind of food did Antivans eat if there were no noodles? 

Noodles equal pasta, and there was no China to create noodles so it would stand that there were no noodles in Thedas, which would mean that there was no pasta in Thedas.

There was no China, there was no Silk Road, there were probably no noodles…

What a sad thought…

She loved noodles so much… it made her a little sad that she didn’t know how to make noodles.

“Orzammar lies this way, no?” Shale asked, “they make golems in such a place, do they not?”

“Possibly?” she shrugged.

“Oh, my,” Wynne said, “I didn’t expect it to be this crowded.”

“Look at all those people hawking their wares!” Leliana said, “it’s almost like a little city!”

“Most traders aren’t allowed in Orzammar, so they just sort of… gather near the doors,” Alistair explained, “there’s no laws up here at all, I’m told.”

“Are we going to enter Orzammar?” Zevran asked almost excitedly, “I don’t believe they allow non-Dwarves within.”

“All the Darkspawn are fleeing the underground,” Sten commented, “and we are going there.”

“Are we… descending into the underground?” Morrigan asked, “the thought of so much rock over one’s head is… disquieting.”

“I’m right there with you,” she sighed, “I _hate_ the thought of being underground… so with that said, Alistair, I trust that you’ll be able to handle the Dwarves yourself, right? And then Morrigan and I can wait outside?”

“No,” Alistair frowned.

“But you’re my protege,” she replied, “so surely you can handle it on your own.”

“No,” Alistair repeated.

“Why do you hate me?” she sniffed.

“No,” Alistair repeated again.

“I knew this was going to happen,” she sighed, “ah, well, whatever.”

“Did I get the Willful Cat to do something?” Alistair asked in shock causing her to laugh hysterically.

“Oh, sweetie, of course not,” she laughed, “I’d already long since come to terms with the fact that I’d be dealing with whatever Orzammar has to offer. Not only that, but I wouldn’t shove you face-first into Dwarven politics without any help, mya.”

“Oh… I should have known better,” Alistair sighed.

“I just thought it’d be fun to play around a bit,” she replied, “like how I once impersonated Flemeth… I kind of want to do that again…”

“Please don’t,” Morrigan groaned, “I would like to be completely rid of her.”

“Right, Faryn should be around here,” she hummed looking around the bazaar, “a merchant… probably Human… let’s try that guy…”

“Step right— Maker’s breath!” Possible Faryn exclaimed, “ah, I beg your pardon, friend, you… ah… startled me a bit.”

“You’re Faryn, right?” she asked.

“You’ve… ah, heard of me?” Faryn asked in return.

“Where is my sword?” Sten demanded.

“I… ah…” Faryn paled, “don’t know what you mean, ser.”

“I’d give it back,” she commented, “if I were you, Faryn.”

“I… I don’t have it! I swear by Andraste’s knickers!” Faryn finally admitted, “I sold it on the way here!”

“Who?” she asked.

“A Dwarf near Redcliffe,” Faryn confessed, “Dwyn, I think his name was.”

“Dwyn?” she asked raising a brow.

He was the Dwarf she intimidated into helping Redcliffe.

“He’s the one who has the sword, I promise you,” Faryn replied, “said he was a collector.”

“We’ll see,” Sten replied.

“We know Dwyn,” she said turning to Sten, “and we’re going back to Redcliffe once this business with the Dwarves is wrapped up.”

Sten gave a nod, and she continued towards the doors of Orzammar until she was stopped by someone.

“Good-looking Mabari you have there,” a Man said.

Diana barked happily.

“Yes, she’s my puppy,” she replied, “and I love her.”

Diana gave another happy bark.

“Puppy?” the Man replied, “a dog such as this is not meant to be pampered and made fat on honey and sweetmeats.”

Diana growled angrily.

“Just because she’s a bulky deadly ball of danger doesn’t mean I can’t shower her with love,” she replied, “I mean, sure she has military dog training, but that doesn’t mean I can’t call her my puppy… when it comes to parents, no matter how old their child is, they will always be their babies… Diana will always be my puppy.”

Diana barked happily.

“The Mabari are the royalty of dogs,” the Man said, “respect them and they will be your closest companion and your most loyal defender.”

“Of course, and Diana and I are fated to be,” she replied, “our bond will always transcend lifetimes.”

Diana barked in agreement.

It was completely true, their bond did transcend lifetimes… Diana showed up in her life just when she needed her… come to think of it, she’ll be leaving first, this time.

“You two have always been extraordinarily close,” Alistair commented, “even when you’d only known each other for a day.”

“Because we’re fated to be,” she repeated.

“I was chosen by a Mabari myself, years ago… I was one of the Ash Warriors under the command of the old King Maric,” the Man recounted, “we laid down our lives for the King, and for freedom, and my beloved Valder paid the ultimate price… nothing was the same after that.”

“Nothings ever the same after a family member dies,” she nodded.

“They say a Mabari bonds with their Human, but they often leave out that the bond goes both ways,” the Man nodded, “no other Mabari could have taken his place… What is an Ash Warrior without his hound? There was nothing there for me anymore, and so I left.”

“Ferelden needs her fighting men,” she said.

“Look at me. I’m an old man… there is no place for me on the battlefield,” the Man replied, “I know about the Blight, and were I but ten years younger, I would fight… but my time has passed.”

“Then I wish you well,” she replied with a wave.

“Wait a moment… perhaps there is something I can do to help,” the Man said stopping her, “you must know about kaddis? The paint we use to create patterns on the fur of the Mabari?”

“Of course I do,” she nodded, “considering I bathe her and then have to repaint them.”

“I know some old patterns, from generations ago,” the Man said, “I can teach them to you, in exchange for some coin.”

“Alright,” she replied, “let’s see what you got.”

She and Diana browsed through the drawn patterns he had, and Diana picked one that she paid for.

“You two really are synchronized nicely,” the Man commented.

“Of course,” she replied, “we’re fated companions.”

Diana barked happily.

She wasn’t surprised that Loghain sent messengers to Orzammar, especially considering their welcome party.

‘King Loghain’?

Apparently, he’s not just regent, he’s King.

Well… he did kill Cailan and the Right of Succession and all that jazz.

***

His Warden did not look the least bit surprised at this turn of events, in fact, if anything, she looked amused at it.

“ _Veata!_ This land is held in trust for the Sovereign Dwarven Kings,” the Guard said, “I cannot allow entry at this time.”

“King Loghain demands the allegiance of the deshyr or lords or whatever you call them in your Assembly!” Loghain’s Lackey said, “I am his appointed messenger.”

“I don’t care if you’re the King’s wiper,” the Guard replied, “Orzammar will have none but its own until our throne is settled.”

“My, my… Loghain certainly must be desperate to have sent someone who wouldn’t even know what diplomacy is if it bit him on the ass,” Kallian mused, “anyway, this is all you, Alistair.”

She really was amused by this whole ordeal.

“I have urgent need to speak with your King,” Alistair said quickly taking lead.

“Who doesn’t?” the Messenger replied, “if I don’t get in, no one should.”

“Orzammar has no King,” the Guard sighed, “Endrin Aeducan returned to the Stone not five months ago, sick over the loss of his sons… The Assembly has gone through a dozen votes without agreeing on a successor. If it is not settled soon, we risk a civil war.”

“Whoaaa… Civil War on both the surface and below… huh?” Kallian mumbled.

“The Grey Wardens request the aid of their traditional Dwarven Allies,” Alistair said taking out the treaty to show the Guard, “and thankfully, we’re not here on behalf of Loghain.”

“The Wardens killed King Cailan and nearly doomed Ferelden!” the Messenger roared, “they’re sworn enemies of King Loghain.”

“Why doesn’t anyone engage in critical thinking?” Kallian asked.

“Well, that _is_ the royal seal,” the Guard replied handing him the treaty back, “that means only the Assembly is authorized to address it. Grey Wardens, you may pass.”

“You’re letting in a traitor? And a foreigner?!” the Messenger glowered, “in the name of King Loghain, I demand that you exec—”

His Warden cut the man off by viciously punching him in the face.

“What?” Alistair asked in shock.

“Isn’t it only natural to discipline idiots?” Kallian asked sweetly before grabbing the man by the hair, her voice was sweet, but her intimidation was on in full force, “listen up, dumb ass, you are a representative of Loghain, and this is how you treat those who you’re asking for aid on his behalf? You _insult_ them by not even _caring_ about their political situation or their own circumstances. This is how _Loghain_ wants to make a deal with the Dwarves? By insulting and belittling them? If this is how he’s going to treat them, then _he doesn’t deserve their aid_.”

His Warden dropped him as if he were nothing with naught but a beaming smile.

“This reminds me of when we met, Kalli,” Leliana remarked.

“Kill each other as you will,” the Guard glared, “but take your sodding fight off my doorstep!”

“How dare you!” the Messenger was practically shaking with rage, “King Loghain will not suffer this! I will not suffer it! _I’m_ his messenger!”

“And a shitty messenger you are,” Kallian replied jumping to stand on top of the rail, “come then, messenger of Loghain, execute me if you can.”

His Warden was especially sexy when she was confidently putting people in their proper places.

Especially when she had that smile on her face, knowing full well that her opponents were in over their heads and had absolutely no idea what they were getting into. It was the same smile she has when she’s cooking, knitting, sewing, or embroidering, only given the current circumstance, it appeared far more sinister than when she was engaged with the other activities she enjoyed. Her confidence was one of her weapons when she stood against them with that smile, her opponents were immediately unnerved, add into the equation her actual skill as a fighter… they didn’t even stand a chance.

“You’ve done me a service. That fool Imrek was barking for a week,” the Guard sighed, “are all Humans so touched?”

“By touched, do you mean entitled?” Kallian asked, “entitlement usually births arrogance… though, whether they’re aware of it or not is another matter.”

“You are free to enter Orzammar, Grey Wardens,” the Guard said gesturing for the doors to be opened, “though I don’t know what help you will find.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Tao Te Ching Chapter Twenty-Nine._


	44. How the Cat Arrived in Orzammar

They entered what she guessed was the entryway into Orzammar, it was a large hall lined with statues.

“ _Atrast vala,_ Warden, your arrival is a mixed blessing,” the Guard inside said, “we prefer that outsiders not witness our infighting, but your presence will be tolerated.”

She was guessing that meant something along the lines of ‘Well met’.

“I will keep that in mind,” she replied.

As she moved to expect one of the statues, she was subject to witnessing an exchange between a beggar and a guard. ‘Brand’? Did they brand poor people? How horrible…

Dwarves are treated better and had a higher place in society than Elves, but quite frankly, she was glad she was born an Elf… Being born Human would have been too easy. It’d be too easy for her to have gotten away with all of her actions, and that was something that scared her a little. Dwarven culture also seemed a little too intense for her… What with the apparent branding and them also having a social hierarchy that she didn’t really understand.

“Those statues are the Paragons if I remember right,” Alistair commented, “the best of their Ancestors.”

“Ah, the Paragons, I believe,” Zevran noted, “the Dwarves worship their own Ancestors if you can believe it.”

“I can,” she replied, “filial piety, and all that… not only that but someone's ancestors actually existed and made a difference in the world, it’s more believable than whatever else. Especially if you’re the type who likes to think that those you care about but are dead are still looking out for you… There’s also nothing wrong in seeking wisdom in ones who have experienced far more than you.”

“How magnificent,” Wynne said, “these must be the statues of the Dwarven Paragons.”

“Now, imagine if all of those were golems…” Shale said.

“Do you think they sell miniatures of these in the city?” Leliana asked, “I would love to have some on my mantle.”

“If there is anything complimentary to be said about these people,” Morrigan commented, “’tis that they possess a remarkable facility for carving stone.”

“Is it just me,” Sten asked, “or do all these statues look alike.”

She thought so too, but she wouldn’t say so out loud. Not only would that be rude, but they were here to ask the Dwarves for aid, and she _just_ got finished disciplining someone for being disrespectful, and she wasn’t going to be _that_ person.

“Show respect, surfacers,” a Dwarf said, “you’re in the Hall of Heroes, home to the best of us.”

“The figures are quite grand indeed,” she nodded.

“Paragons, Dwarves who achieve such greatness, they’re considered Ancestors even if they yet walk among us,” the Dwarf replied, “if only we had one now. A unifier. A voice like that… there would be no dissension.”

“Times truly are rough, aren’t they?” she sighed.

“A surfacer should not see us in this kind of disarray,” the Dwarf replied, “goodbye, Warden, I hope you’re not needed.”

“I hope so too,” she replied.

Really, she did.

Getting involved in Dwarven infighting wasn’t really something she was keen on doing.

Politics suck.

They left the entrance hall and entered the city.

Huge.

The place was huge.

How was it so huge?

Ahh… the cave was here first, and then they built into it to suit their needs… of course, that’s the most logical explanation… they probably put hooks into the ceiling and then fed a rope through it and used a pulley system, in order to get the details and such right. Using too much scaffolding would be a waste of resources, so yeah, that made more sense. Ah, but then how did they get the hooks into the ceiling? Oh! Rock climbing, of course, of course, they probably have good rock climbing equipment. Maybe they use climbing claws?

Oh, there are people fighting.

“It is the Assembly who makes a King, and a King who nominates his successor,” a Noble said, “none of it is carried in the blood.”

“Or, as now, when someone tries using the Assembly to pull a coup,” Another Noble replied, “who’s to say what my Father said in his final hours when the usurper Harrowmont was the only one by his side?”

“I’ll have you thrown in prison!” Harrowmont glared.

“You’ve bitten off more than you can chew!” the Other Noble retorted.

“Handlers! Separate these deshyrs in the Diamond Quarter,” a Guard, she thinks, demands, “I will not have Bhelen incite a riot!”

“You will not speak that way about the man who should be King!” what she guessed was Bhelen’s guard said angrily before killing the guard.

She had no idea how to react to this… she’s never seen nobles just outright kill each other like this before. Sure, she’s seen things happen, but generally, those all happened outside of public view, where other people could be framed and all that noise. Subtle machinations and whatnot… it was clearly the route Loghain was taking. Getting Cailan killed, blaming Wardens which meant blaming Alistair which would be two birds with one stone. Then the poison and the business with the Circle…

He might even have gotten away with it if it weren’t for this meddling kid.

“…Crazy,” was all she could say regarding the whole scene, “Zevran, should I make you another bowl of fish chowder later? And find you some prostitutes? ‘Coz I have this crazy feeling that there’ll be corrupt politicians in our future.”

“As tempting as that sounds,” Zevran chuckled, “I think I will be fine without either… although, if you insist, I would not turn down a bowl of your fish chowder.”

“Your continued abstinence continues to surprise me,” she commented, “but have it your way… though it’ll probably have to wait until we’re in Redcliffe again.”

“ _Veata,_ surfacer! I am bid to let you walk the commons, but keep your place,” a Guard said stopping them, “Warden or not, I want order.”

She was beginning to feel like that meant ‘halt’.

“The Blight is coming and we need Orzammar’s assistance,” Alistair said.

“Surface problems. Well, we have no king to hear you. You can join the shouting at the Assembly in the Diamond Quarter, if you want,” the Guard replied, “bunch of deshyr lords bickering over-sand… Bhelen, Harrowmont… is one so different? No Paragons here.”

“Ah yes, Paragons, living Ancestors… the pinnacles of excellence,” she closed her eyes and nodded her head, “I can certainly agree with the desire to seek wisdom in the ones who have already achieved so much.”

“So you know of our Paragons,” the Guard said looking at her thoughtfully.

Well, to be completely honest, she mostly understood it from context clues.

Also, by knowing the definition of the word ‘paragon’.

And by cheating, because she knew of religions that kinda sorta did similar stuff… Filial piety was a big part of East Asian religions.

“Of course,” she replied, “one should always know about the allies they seek, so as to not be disrespectful and insulting, hm?”

“Anyhow, it sounds like Bhelen and Harrowmont are the ones to talk to,” Alistair commented.

“They’ve caged themselves for fear of each other. As you’ve seen, keeping order down among us working people is dodgy. No place for a proper lord,” the Guard replied, “Bhelen speaks through his Second, Vartag Gavorn, in the Assembly. Lord Harrowmont speaks through Dulin Forender from his estate.”

“Thank you for the information,” she said, “are there any inns you would recommend staying at?”

“Try Tapsters,” the Guard replied.

Truly entering the city was… an experience.

“Huh… what a strange experience,” she commented, “I’ve never been around a bunch of fully grown people who are shorter than me before.”

In either lifetimes, really. She had been of average height for a Japanese woman in her past life, and in this one, she was slightly shorter than the average Elf, likely because she bashed her bones in. So, it was weird feeling like she was a giant… she wouldn’t need to use anyone as a landmark, because she could see over all of the heads of the Dwarven folk.

“Hmph, not bad,” Sten commented.

“Wow… so this is Orzammar?” Alistair said looking around, “it’s huge!”

“It’s… big,” Leliana said in awe.

“For a tiny people, they certainly build high ceilings,” Wynne remarked.

“What a remarkable amount of lava,” Zevran said, “do you think anyone ever falls in?”

“It seems like a pretty good way to dispose of bodies,” she replied, “and get rid of the evidence.”

“Lava bad,” Shale said, “don’t go near lava.”

“Hmmm… where did they put all the rock, I wonder,” Morrigan said.

“Well, the cave was probably here first, and then they simply re-purposed it and made it fit their needs,” she answered, “as for what they did with the rock they didn’t need? Probably threw it in the lava.”

“How do you know all of this?” Alistair asked, “and how did you know so much about the Paragons?”

“Are those even real questions?” she asked in return, “I’m rather confident in my critical thinking skills… judging by the simple fact that there’s lava down in the pit in the first place, suggests that the cave was here first, and they simply remodeled it… as for the Paragons… well, it helps to know what the definition of the word ‘paragon’ is, which is, basically, someone or something that perfectly embodies a certain quality.”

“Brecilian Forest, the ruins or the forest, which came first?” Alistair asked.

“I would say the ruins, honestly,” she replied closing her eyes in thought, “though the Grand Oak had mentioned that the forest had been planted by Ancient Elves, so it’s also plausible that they has simply cleared a space for the ruins when they were constructing the buildings… However, there is also the simple fact that it doesn’t take long for nature to reclaim its hold on a location, to consider, which would explain why they were already so overgrown… we spend a lot of time building things to suit our own needs, but it takes only a few years for nature to undo almost everything we’ve done… the tenacity of life, as it were… which is actually a bit inspirational, since no matter what destruction you bring to nature, she’ll always recover.”

This was something that had piqued her interest in her past life. She’d probably seen pictures of long-abandoned places that had been reclaimed by nature. It was interesting how easily nature had taken over, undoing years and years of work in the span of a few years. The fact that that happened was a rather touching sentiment, really. No matter what we did to her, Mother Nature persevered and took back control of parts of herself and came back stronger and more resilient than before. Something she needed because she had been a mess of problems, self-hatred, and self-disappointment.

Which was another reason she had been completely fine with dying.

Until all this happened.

Which sucked, because this life had already started better than her last one. She’d kept herself from falling into the same pitfalls as her last life, and had been living a pretty happy and peaceful life…

And now look at her.

Suicidal, in denial, hating herself all over again, disappointed in herself again…

Oblivion spirals galore.

“Where is Antiva?” Alistair asked.

“Why do I need to know where Antiva is?” she asked in return, “are we planning on leaving Ferelden? I thought we had a Blight to end?”

“Antiva, my dear Warden,” Zevran said, “is next to Rivain, Tevinter, and the Free Marches.”

“You say that… like I know where those are,” she frowned, “and last I checked: I don’t.”

“What are you going to do when I send you there for diplomatic purposes?” Alistair asked.

“Learn and memorize where they are because then it’d be information that directly pertains to my life, duh,” she sighed shaking her head in exasperation, “my ability to retain information on things that aren’t either in line with my interests, or don’t directly pertain to my life is nonexistent, but information that is in line with my interest and directly pertains to my life, on the other hand? Extremely high… I can’t believe you even asked me that question.”

“Well, for now,” Alistair sighed, “we should probably split up and gather information on the situation here.”

“Mother is so proud of you,” she said raising a hand to her cheek, “you’ve grown so much.”

“You are not my Mother,” Alistair frowned, “anyway, you three in particular excel in coercing information out of people. So get to it.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” she replied with a salute.

They all split up to go investigate the situation, though she didn’t think Alistair meant for the Trio of Tricksters to wander off together. Granted, he’s probably already figured that they would stick together, he’s been getting better at that… she really was proud of him. It was making her feel a little emotional. She’d never have the chance to actually have children, so this was probably the closest she’ll get before she dies.

So, she’s gonna enjoy this while she can.

Also, because she _needs_ this. Incredible seriousness was never really her thing, hence why she was a _playful_ trickster. Mischief was in her nature, it was a pretty important part of her, considering how much of a troublemaker she was/is. Plus, she hasn’t been able to wander off on her own to recharge and de-stress… the lack of sleep probably also wasn’t helping.

They went asking merchants for their opinions on what was going on, if it came down to it, they’d need to know who to support. Well, after getting sidetracked into helping some guy recapture his escaped nugs.

“You know, I have heard much about the halls of the Dwarven kings… but the stories do it no justice,” Leliana commented, “it is so strange— harsh, yet beautiful.”

“It’s a little too stony for me,” she replied.

Diana barked in agreement.

They were both meant to be above ground, not below it.

“But that is part of its beauty… it is so different. I love it,” Leliana replied, “and have you seen those tiny pig-like burrowing animals? The nugs? They are adorable… I wish I could have one as a pet… but they must be hard to catch and… oh, just ignore me. I’m so silly sometimes.”

“Hmmm…” she hummed in thought.

The merchant who’d lost them said that he got them from someone in Dust Town… There was probably someone there who could snag one for them.

Though, Leliana noticed someone in Chantry robes and was talking to him. She didn’t care about the Chantry so she was hanging in the back so as to not insult anyone.

“My dear Warden,” Zevran said as she absentmindedly took his hand and began pressing her fingers into his palm, “what are you doing?”

“Ah, sorry,” she replied letting him go.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Zevran commented and she took his hand again and pressed her fingers into it, “you seem to enjoy playing with my hands a great deal.”

“Mmm… I like your hands,” she replied.

“Kalli,” Leliana said, “is there a possibility that we will be going to the Shaperate?”

“Probably, why?” she asked letting go of Zevran’s hand.

“I would like to help Brother Burkel open up a Chantry in Orzammar,” Leliana replied.

“Oh, okay, yeah, sure, freedom of religion and all that, so why not?” she shrugged, “I would like to check out Dust Town… And then I think we should have enough time to scope out the Diamond Quarter a bit before we meet back up with everyone.”

They continued down the road to Dust Town, and she could tell that they were going the right way because the buildings became more dilapidated as they continued. To be completely honest, she was surprised that she didn’t see a large gate cutting the place off from the rest of Orzammar.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” she said suddenly in shock, before ducking behind a dilapidated wall, “why do we always get such murder happy welcomes?”

Well, at least these ones just wanted their money, it’s been a while since this kind of encounter happened, people wanting what was beginning to seem like more mundane things. The fact that she was feeling kind of blasé about this kind of worried her since it more or less meant she was getting used to fighting all the time.

And of course, since she was in a city, she didn’t have her main weapons on her… she should probably go grab them from Bodahn at some point and make someone carry them for her…

She was still a City Elf, so of course, she still didn’t feel comfortable straight-up walking into either a city or village with weapons in sight. Instincts like that die hard, after all… though it just made it easier for her to counterattack since they didn’t expect whatever she had packed in her sleeves.

As she returned her daggers into their pockets in her sleeves she wondered if the time she had lived without fighting all the time were nothing more than a dream.

And that wasn’t even a year ago.

“Ah-ha!” Zevran said cheerfully, “I smell a seedy underbelly, warts and all!”

“I… I think I just stepped in something,” Leliana said looking down at her feet.

Dust Town was… an experience.

To say the least.

It was worse than the Alienage… almost more so than post-riot… At least the Alienage had fresh air, and you could see the sky. There were also trees, and rustling leaves…

Not only that, but she’d never expected to think that there were a group of peoples who were treated _worse_ than City Elves. All of the Casteless had brands on their faces, and from earlier experiences, she knew that they were treated like pests. Beggars lined the streets, though what they expected to get from their fellow Casteless, she had no idea.

This place made her sad.

It reminded her of the homeless encampments of which Hawai’i had many. This was a level of poverty and oppression that she had never ever seen before or had even thought possible.

She had a lot of money that she wasn’t comfortable with having. Money she’d earned through her partnership with Bodahn selling her craft… She should knit them some blankets, and cook them something to eat, though she didn’t think she had a big enough pot to make them soup. Yarn, and other textiles, she should have enough of…

There was someone who looked like he knew how to wrangle up a nug, and she made a mental note of him. She’ll come back to talk to him later. A surprise pet for Leliana sounded hilarious.

“Spare a bit for the needy?” she heard someone call out, “please, it’s not for me. It’s for my child.”

She bee-lined to the woman. 

A child… she still didn’t believe that they branded _children_ like that. To her, it was something sickening, though she knew it was because of a difference in societal values.

“H— Have you a coin to spare, m’lady?” the Woman asked, “it’s for my son… he’s sick. He hasn’t any clean clothes to wear or anything to eat today. N—neither have I.”

“Hello, my name is Kallian, I know a good deal about healing,” she replied rushing through introductions, “bring me to him, quickly, how old is he and what are his symptoms?”

“This way,” the Woman replied leading her into a small shelter and their living conditions really broke her heart, “he’s not even a year old… he has a slight cough.”

“Is it a wet cough, or a dry cough?” she asked.

“It sounds like a dry cough,” the Woman replied.

“It’s probably a cold then, we’ll need to clean this place up,” she replied before taking out two sovereigns worth of silver, “take this, and go get whatever you need.”

“Thank you… that a stranger would care so much when my own family barred me from their halls unless I’m willing to—” the Woman sniffed, “but no! I can’t bear to even think of it!”

It was here that she noticed that the woman didn’t have the ‘brand’ of the Casteless.

“What’s wrong?” she asked soothingly.

“My name is Zerlinda… I wasn’t always like this. I was born to a Mining Caste family, we weren’t wealthy, but… I never went hungry before,” Zerlinda confessed, “now it’s all gone… and it’s my own fault, Ancestors curse me, but there’s nothing I can do to set it right!”

“What happened?”

“I fell in love… he seemed so exotic, you know, tough and smart and never had to bow his head to anyone, he was Casteless, and I think… no, I _know_ he was just trying to father a higher-caste child, so he could petition for status,” Zerlinda replied, “but our child… was a son, Casteless like his Father. My parents disowned me and stripped my caste from me… Unless I agree to abandon the child in the Deep Roads and pretend I never bore him.”

This place _really_ made her sad.

“If you are from the mining caste,” Leliana asked, “why would your son be Casteless?”

“In Orzammar, lineage is traced through the child’s same-sex parent. Had my baby been a girl, she would’ve been a miner, like me,” Zerlinda explained, “but as a boy, my son is considered tainted forever by his Father’s seed.”

“That’s horrible!” Leliana exclaimed.

“I cannot abandon my baby. The Shapers teach that only children of true lineage exist, not those born Casteless… but they never carried a child,” Zerlinda replied, “he cries like any other infant and smiles when he’s warm and full. I can’t kill him because of an accident of birth. An accident I forced on him!”

“Maybe… I could reason with your family,” she offered, “either way, this isn’t a good environment for him.”

“Y— you would do that?” Zerlinda asked in shock, “but why?”

“Because I can’t sit still like this,” she answered, “I can’t let this continue.”

“Then I cannot offer enough gratitude… but I warn you, my Father is a still-necked man. His name is Ordel and he’s usually at Tapsters in the evening,” Zerlinda replied, “I do not think he will listen to you. But I will wait anxiously to see if you can do what you promise.”

This place really, _really_ made her sad.

“Ha, drunken Dwarves!” Zevran laughed as they neared Tapsters and saw people passed out on the streets, “what could be the harm in a few of those?”

“Watch out for that puddle of…” Leliana trailed off making a face, “whatever it is.”

“Lots of stuff to potentially step into, here, huh?” she mused, “Annie, don’t touch anything weird… and don’t accept food from strangers.”

Diana gave a bark of understanding.

They found Tapsters, and she hoped Ordel would be easy to find… She needed to give him a piece of her mind.

“You know… I’ve never had Dwarven ale before,” she commented as they entered, “maybe I should try it…”

“Do you know that Dwarven ale isn’t truly ale at all?” Zevran replied, “and it’s black. Marvelous!”

“I once drank a thimble of Dwarven ale,” Leliana replied, “woke up a week later in Jader wearing nothing but my shoes and a towel.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” she replied before spotting a hostess.

“Come now, my dear Warden,” Zevran replied, “what is the harm, hm?”

“ _Atrast vala,_ Stranger… You must be one of the Grey Wardens we heard about,” Corra said, “welcome to Tapsters. I’m Corra, your hostess. How may I serve you?”

“Two pints of your finest Dwarven ale,” Zevran said causing her to turn and frown at him.

“That’ll be the Brakien Brew. She has a heavy head and a deep, rich taste,” Corra replied, “six silvers for two pints.”

“Sorry, please ignore him, we’ll come back for ale later,” she said butting into the conversation, “I’m looking for someone.”

“Aye?” Corra replied, “maybe I can help.”

“I’m looking for a man named Ordel,” she replied.

“He’s the one in the corner, still dusty from the mines,” Corra replied, “don’t expect him to be chatty.”

“Thank you,” she replied before frowning at Zevran again, “we still have stuff and things to do.”

“You just seemed like you could use a drink, my dear Warden,” Zevran replied.

“Later,” she sighed moving towards the one Corra had pointed out.

“What are you looking at, Stranger?” Ordel asked.

“Are you Ordel?” she asked to make sure she had the right person.

“I could be,” Ordel replied, “what business is it of yours?”

“I met your daughter,” she replied.

“I have no daughter,” Ordel replied, “could be you met a Casteless whore claiming she was once mine.”

Orzammar was draining all the life out of her, like a city full of dementors.

“If you don’t take her back,” she replied, “she’ll die.”

“What? You think she’d die just to keep that thing? She knows what she has to do to come home,” Ordel replied, “I never wanted _her_ gone, just the little cur. Can’t she see she’d have a better life if she got rid of it?”

“He’s a child, your Grandson! Not a thing!” she protested, “and could you pretend _your_ child never existed?”

“I’ve been trying… it’s not as easy as I thought,” Ordel sighed, “look, just tell her… we never meant to hurt her. It just seemed best that… Oh, just tell her to come home. Her Mother and I are waiting for her.”

“I will,” she promised.

As they walked back to Dust Town, she tried stewing on this information, trying to understand it.

But she couldn’t.

She just couldn’t.

She couldn’t understand this place for the life of her.

This place was such a cultural shock she didn’t even know what to do.

“Y—you’re back… I thought you weren’t coming,” Zerlinda said in shock, “what did he say?”

“Your Father told me to tell you that he wants you both to come home,” she answered, “and that both he and your Mother are waiting for you.”

“Both of us? I don’t believe he said that… I’ve never heard him refer to my son as anything but trash, he calls him ‘it’!” Zerlinda replied in awe, “but maybe… maybe Mother convinced him… or you did. Oh, my friend, I cannot thank you enough!”

“I told you,” she replied with a soft smile, “I can’t just sit by and allow something like this to happen.”

“If this were a story, my son would grow to manhood and pledge himself as a knight in your service!” Zerlinda said hugging her, “when he grows up, I will send him to you. I promise!”

“Oh, there’s no need to go that far,” she replied patting her on the back.

“Already recruiting knights?” Alistair asked wandering up to them, “you’ll need them for when you become Teyrna of Gwaren.”

“A Teyrna? I will definitely be sending him to you!” Zerlinda said cheerfully, “I swear by the Ancestors that he will serve you well!”

She didn’t have the chance to say ‘no’, as Zerlinda zoomed out of Dust Town with her child bundled up in her arms.

“…Arguing would be a waste of time and energy, of which I do not have,” she sighed, “I’m going to check out the Diamond Quarter… We’ll meet back at Tapsters in about an hour or so, yeah?”

“I’ll come too,” Alistair replied, “I haven’t been there yet.”

***

Orzammar, was not a place his Warden would do well in.

And truly, she wasn’t.

He could see her continually looking to the ceiling, where she could not see the sky, and he could see her frown when she’d gone through Dust Town.

“High-quality sweets,” Kallian mumbled, “I need… high-quality sweets…”

He wasn’t sure what kind of sweets Dwarves had, but he should probably keep an eye out for some.

_“What was once broken can be mended, reforged… and often times it can become something more beautiful than it had been originally.”_

She’d freed him from the Crows, and taught him how to fly. She’d freed him from his past, so it would only be fair for him to return the favor, and free her from hers as well. She was broken, but so was he, rather than simply being broken together, perhaps they could be reforged together. They could both become more than they had been before they had been broken…

Yet she refused.

She continually refused, content to simply watch as others moved forward in their lives. Simply allowing herself to be held back by her past.

He wished she would tell him everything, that she would tell him why she thought herself irredeemable. It couldn’t just be because she hadn’t been swift enough to save the person she loved.

There was more to it than that.

Of that, he had no doubt.

He remembered his earlier thoughts that something had happened to her cousin. The way his Warden had said how her heart had been shattered made it seem like the one who she’d failed was the woman that the man she’d loved had been in love with.

But there was still a chance that something had happened to her cousin.

“Ah, Kallian, good timing,” Wynne said grabbing Kallian’s attention, “I was just talking to this young Dwarven woman, Dagna, she is interested in mages and wants to go to the Circle.”

“Aren’t there any mages here?” Kallian tilted her head to the side.

“No, my dear Warden,” he answered, “did you not know that Dwarves cannot become mages?”

“Clearly, I didn’t,” Kallian replied bluntly, “otherwise I wouldn’t have asked, nya-nyoon.”

“Haven’t you read First Enchanter Caethelun’s ‘Treatise Concerning Dwarves and the Non-Heritablility of Magic’?” Dagna replied, “he tested Dwarves from twenty bloodlines, and found they couldn’t perform any level of spell casting, regardless of lyrium exposure or time on the surface. The Circle speculates that lyrium in the Stone shields us from spiritual influences and over time made us immune to them.”

“Hmm… well, there are ways that would grant an inability to do something,” Kallian hummed in thought, “many times, races or species who are under persistent attack from something evolve in a way that gives them a defense mechanism against said attack… Survival of that eh, and all that. Adapting to environmental threats is part of how species and such survive… fascinating stuff, really… lyrium is often used in giving mages energy, and if there’s concentrated amounts of it in the Stone you live in, add in the fact that it’ll apparently kill me within seconds if I touch the raw stuff… Yeah, it makes sense… So why do you want to go to the Circle?”

He wasn’t surprised that his Warden had knowledge of such things since she’d wondered how it was possible for dragons to be able to fly while pointing out why she thought they wouldn’t be able to manage the feat.

“I want to go to the Circle to study,” Dagna replied.

“I assure you, that desire will depart the moment you arrive,” Morrigan said dryly wandering over to them.

“I don’t want to _do_ magic. No Dwarf can cast spells, but I don’t see why I shouldn’t study it,” Dagna replied, “it would be a valuable exchange. Orzammar would learn of one of the great natural forces of the surface, and the Circle gains direct access to our knowledge of lyrium smithing.”

“Is there a chance we could stop by Kinloch Hold so that I may submit this request to Irving?” Wynne asked.

“I don’t see why not,” Kallian shrugged.

“That would be wonderful!” Dagna exclaimed, “my name is Dagna, though you already knew that, and I’m the daughter of Janar of the Smith Caste… Tell them I’ve already begun reading the Tevinter Imperium’s ‘Fortikum Kadab’, and it’s just fascinating! Did you know that the Imperial Magister Lords once had genealogies of every Human family known to produce a mage child?”

“She’s so enthusiastic and adorable!” Leliana remarked, “I’m glad we’re helping her.”

“Oh, I’ll go pack my bags right now!” Dagna said happily, “I’ll be waiting by my Father’s shop!”

“I could probably get there in a day or two on my own,” Kallian remarked after Dagna had sped away.

“On your own?” Leliana asked.

“I can run nonstop for pretty long periods of time,” Kallian explained, “plus, I’m super light, yeah? It helps my speed, nya.”

“No,” he said firmly.

“Why not?” Kallian asked.

“Did you just so happen to forget that we had been recently ambushed by Darkspawn?” he asked in return.

“Of course not, I took a hit,” Kallian replied, “my memory isn’t _that_ bad.”

“No,” he repeated.

“You never let me have any fun,” Kallian whined, “first it was when I wanted Alistair to toss me across the gap, and then when I wanted to see how far Shale could throw me, and now this.”

“My dear Warden,” he sighed, “it is dangerous.”

“So am I,” Kallian replied bluntly.

“No,” he repeated again.

“Fine,” Kallian sighed, “I suppose I can’t just leave Ali-butt here to deal with politics on his own… killjoy.”

He had a feeling that she just didn’t want to be in Orzammar anymore, that she wanted to see the sky. Though, he did notice that his Warden discreetly bought a golden mirror from a lyrium addled vendor.

“Let me guess,” he remarked, “this is where the rich Dwarves live, yes?”

“That’s what it looks like,” Kallian replied.

“So, the closer you live to the surface, the higher class you are,” Alistair commented, “unless you’re actually _on_ the surface.”

“From what I’ve heard of Dwarven politics,” Leliana said, “I’m almost surprised we haven’t seen blood running these streets.”

“Someone died right in front of us as soon as we entered the city,” Kallian pointed out, “and it’s supposed to be _worse?_ ”

“Oh, this is grand,” Wynne said, “the noble houses do love their luxuries, don’t they?”

“Ah, yes,” Morrigan sighed, “the social strata quickly makes itself evident no matter where one goes.”

***

She’d gotten a one-word message from Kallian, a few days ago.

It read: ‘Orzammar’.

Likely meaning that something happened and that they had to have a change of plans since they should be in Denerim right about now. She honestly just hoped that they were okay, though she had no doubt that they were.

They were still traveling with their ultimate trump card.

Meanwhile, things were progressing nicely, and they would definitely be ready to call the Landsmeet as soon as they got finished with their business in Orzammar.

“Elissa, do you think that you will be ready?” Eamon asked.

“Of course,” she nodded, “once they get through with Orzammar, we will be able to call the Landsmeet… my allies are finishing up their own preparations.”

“No, not that,” Eamon chuckled, “I mean: will you be ready to become Queen?”

For a split second, her brain stopped working.

That’s right if Alistair becomes King, and she marries him… She’ll become the Queen of Ferelden.

And not only was she in love with him, but her marrying him would also provide the strongest bid for the throne. Alistair being the son of King Maric, and brother of Cailan, as well as Cailan’s probable chosen successor, and her being the Teyrna of Highever, and the fact that she was a Cousland, a family name that many had had respect for.

She was going to become Queen of Ferelden.

And if they made Kallian the Teyrna of Gwaren, she would not be able to hire her as a handmaiden. And there was no one she’d rather have as a handmaiden in such a situation, considering her ability to serve as an adviser, bodyguard, and servant. She would still be an ally to the throne, but she would be busy dealing with the affairs of a Teyrnir… What should they do about Highever? If she becomes Queen, Highever would still need a Teyrn… but her family had been wiped out, and there was no one to succeed her…

“I need two Kalli’s,” she declared, “or maybe three… Yeah, I need three Kalli’s.”

“I don’t think she can split herself off into three people,” Eamon replied wryly.

“She’ll need to figure it out somehow,” she replied, “Gwaren will need a new Teyrn, so will Highever… and I wanted her as a handmaiden… though I suppose I’ll let that one slide.”

“I think that would be the only role she wouldn’t reject,” Eamon replied.

“Do you think there are more Kalli’s where she came from?” she asked.

“If there were,” Eamon replied, “I think the Elves of the Denerim Alienage would have a much better lot in life.”

“Would you be interested in—”

“I think I’ll have my hands full with Redcliffe once this is all over,” Eamon chuckled interrupting her.

She’ll need to consider their options wisely… Maybe she should wait for Alistair and Kallian to come back to brainstorm about this.


	45. How the Cat Picked a Side

Come to think of it… didn’t they have stuff and things to do in Orzammar? What was it? Oh! The Crows wanted her to kill someone here… 

Who was she supposed to kill again?

“Zevran,” she said quietly pulling him aside, “I need to ask you something.”

“What is it, my dear Warden?” Zevran asked raising a brow at her.

“Who were we supposed to kill again?” she asked.

“…Perhaps you would not do so well as an assassin, after all, my dear Warden,” Zevran chuckled, “since you have apparently forgotten your own target.”

“I get distracted easily,” she shrugged, “which is actually one of the reasons I need to do things quickly.”

“Our target is Ambassador Gainly, he is hiding within the Royal Palace.”

“Ohhh… that’s right… wait, why are we killing an ambassador?”

“The Crows don’t ask questions, my dear Warden.”

“I am not a Crow, I am a cat, mya.”

“What are you two whispering about?” Alistair asked.

“We were discussing some of the information we found out today,” she lied.

“Indeed!” Zevran replied cheerfully, “there were some things that I noticed and was… simply curious to see if she did as well.”

“And I didn’t,” she nodded, “as expected of an assassin.”

“What did you notice that she didn’t?” Wynne asked.

“There was a lord within Tapsters,” Zevran answered, “who most likely has more information on the situation here.”

“I was so focused on finding Ordel that I totally missed him,” she frowned shaking her head with a sigh.

Though, she really didn’t notice that there was a lord in Tapsters who probably knew something.

She had been too busy hating this place and not being able to understand it.

Or was he lying to help cover for her?

Time to make a mental check-list of what she needed to accomplish while in Orzammar… Give Morrigan mirror later, acquire nug, give said acquired nug to Leliana, open Chantry, kill Ambassador Gainly…

Getting the assistance of the Dwarves was Alistair’s job, she’ll observe, of course, but he needs to learn how to stand on his own as a leader. King’s have advisor’s and whatnot, but he still needs to be seen as someone who is independent and knows how to mind his own actions and words, as well as make his own decisions. She didn’t want anyone to see Alistair as incapable of ruling a country, Cailan made that mistake, Loghain clearly didn’t think highly of him, and thus had no faith in his leadership abilities, and she was not about to let that kind of history repeat itself. 

Not while she could do something about it.

As they meandered through the Diamond Quarter, she listened to the town criers, it sounded like the one she wanted to support, if she needed to, would be Bhelen. She didn’t really approve of Orzammar’s traditions, not only that, but there were plenty of downtrodden people who could make a true difference in society if they only had a chance. But the markings on their faces prevented them from having that.

Though, there was also the question of: was it right for them to judge Orzammar like this? They were outsiders.

“For such a short people,” Morrigan commented, “they do rather like their buildings… tall.”

“This is the Royal Palace, then?” Zevran mused, “hmm… what treasures could lie within?”

“Oh, right, crows like shiny things, that’s why you keep wondering what kinds of treasures are where!” she said hitting her palm with her fist, “whoa… took me long enough to figure that one out.”

“I am not a literal crow, my dear Warden,” Zevran replied, “just as you are not a literal cat.”

“You know… after all this is over, I wouldn’t mind getting a job here,” Leliana said thoughtfully, “I could sing, tell stories, help the king get items from high shelves…”

“So this is the seat of the king,” Wynne said, “except he isn’t sitting there at the moment, I suppose.”

“So, how is it the Dwarves have a king?” Alistair asked, “I thought they… voted on everything, or something like that?”

“The Assembly likely just functions as a supplementary measure,” she answered, “generally, most decision making comes from the king, but on certain aspects, having a different set of voices can help shed light onto some issues that the king might either not be aware of, or other avenues that they have yet to consider. A king is one person in charge of many, they need added help for certain issues to make sure that said issue can have acceptable resolutions.”

“Ohhhhhh… That makes sense,” Alistair nodded.

“Then again, I could be wrong nyan-nya,” she shrugged.

She wasn’t sure if she was ready to head into the Royal Palace, just yet, since she didn’t want other people confronting them asking them to choose sides. She’d rather they discuss the situation and listen to everyone's thoughts and feelings on the matter, and get on the same page before making huge decisions like that.

“Ah, the last city of the Dwarves,” Zevran said as they moved past the palace, “just think: in another century or so, the only Dwarves might be those on the surface.”

“Oh, that’s a lot of lava,” Alistair said, “let’s just hope it never erupts.”

“I wonder why they decided to build a city around streams of lava,” Wynne wondered, “it’s an accident waiting to happen.”

“Well, it’s a natural source of light, which means it’s less light they have to set up on their own,” she replied, “and it won’t erupt… this is a mountain, not a volcano… Magma runs throughout the entire earth, it forms the basis for the land we walk and live on, hence why it’s ‘molten rock’. Dig deep enough and you’ll find a lava stream anywhere.”

This, surprisingly, didn’t seem like a subduction zone… though honestly, she didn’t expect the logic of this world to flow the same as her last one. 

Geography wasn’t really her thing, but it _was_ a requirement.

She forgot most of it, but remembered small tiny bits… mainly the lava part because it was hilarious listening to people not from Hawai’i talk about the two different types of lava… since the science community used the Hawaiian words for it.

“Ohhhhh,” Alistair replied, “wait, how do you know that?”

“I read it in a book somewhere,” she replied digging up her old excuse and snapping her fingers into a thumbs up, “just don’t ask me what book it was, because I forgot.”

“Must we stand so close to the edge?” Morrigan asked, “can you not feel the mountain directly over our heads?”

“I require a moment of silence,” Leliana stated, “to take in this magnificent sight.”

They moved to the Shaperate, where Leliana wanted to petition to have a Chantry set up… somewhere in Orzammar.

“Thief!” a Voice shouted, “who would dare take from the Memories?!”

“It wasn’t me this time, I swear!” she replied in alarm.

“No one is blaming you for anything,” Wynne replied.

“…It was a knee-jerk reaction,” she replied, “since you know, playful tricksters get into trouble sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?” Alistair asked.

“You have to actually get caught, to get into trouble, nyaa,” she replied walking over to the man, “what happened?”

“Warden! I’m outraged. A thief in the Shaperate!” the Man replied, “what have we been reduced to?”

“Did you get a good look at him?” she asked.

“I did. He was bald, with the most garish brand across his head, almost like he took pride in being Casteless! Imagine!” the Man answered, “ah… he’s probably in the slums somewhere. As if he’d find a buyer for a stolen tome in Dust Town. They couldn’t know the value.”

She was sure people could say that of her as well. Since she was an Elf, from the City, and they were persecuted for every offense…

Still, stealing books like that was not cool.

“When I last walked this hall, Endrin was king and Orzammar was at peace… the Memories often speak of the swiftness with which change overtakes us, but it is different to see it firsthand,” Czibor said as they approached, “I apologize, Wardens… I should not burden a stranger with such thoughts… I am Czibor, the Shaper of Memories.”

“How did you know that we’re Wardens?” Alistair asked.

“The Grey Warden’s visit has been recorded in the Memories,” Czibor replied, “along with all who accompany you.”

“Ali-butt… is that even a real question?” she asked, “in a city full of _Dwarves_ who know that there are _Grey Wardens_ are in town… just how difficult do you think it would be for them to _not_ figure out we’re Wardens?”

“Good point,” Alistair replied.

“We would like your permission to open a Chantry here,” Leliana said.

“That is an odd request,” Czibor replied, “especially for one so new to our city.”

“One of Orzammar’s own has returned to spread the Chant,” Leliana replied.

“I thought so… this is not the first time he’s made this plea,” Czibor sighed, “my answer to Brother Burkel hasn’t changed, so I ask you the same: on what basis would you have me insult the Ancestors and overturn two thousand years of tradition?”

“The Chantry’s charities could greatly aid Orzammar,” Leliana replied.

“What sort of charities do you mean?” Czibor asked.

“The Chantry cares for widows and orphans,” Alistair replied speaking up, “speaking from experience, here.”

“Traditionally, that is their extended family’s responsibility… but sometimes people fall through the cracks,” Czibor replied thoughtfully, “very well… He may hold a prayer meeting as he requested, if not build a new temple to his god… At least the words would come from one of our own.”

“Ah, there is the Superior Warden,” Shale remarked, “I was wondering where it was.”

“Oh, hey, Shale,” she replied, “haven’t seen Sten yet…”

“I do not recognize this golem,” Czibor said looking at Shale, “where did you find it? Every golem is precious to us. We’d pay a good sum for a new find…”

“I’d sooner jump into a pit of lava,” Shale replied.

“That is… unfortunate,” Czibor replied, “did you need anything else? I must tell the rest of the Shaperate about this discovery.”

“No, that’s all,” she replied shaking her head.

“Then I will record this conversation in the Memories,” Czibor replied, “I hope I do not come to regret it.”

“Thank you,” she replied with a polite bow before moving away, though, she ended up bumping into someone on accident soon after, “oh my gosh, I am so sorry.”

She was not used to being a tall person, this might take a bit of getting used to.

“Oh, no, it’s okay… Were you looking for a particular volume?” the Woman asked, “not that I could really help… I, um, don’t know the libraries very well. I’m just doing some research…”

“What kind of research?” she asked.

“I was looking for something about the Ortan Thaig… it was lost during the last Blight, and there aren’t many records left,” Orta answered, “they were a noble house once, descended from the Paragon Ortan, who composed the grand epic of the Seven Brothers and the Ortanic Symphony… My Mother’s family believes they were descended from Kelana Ortan, who was training in Orzammar when the thaig fell. I’m even named for the house— Orta… Unfortunately, any records would be buried in the thaig’s ruins, somewhere in the Deep Roads.”

“I don’t think we have any plans to head into the Deep Roads,” she replied, “but I’ll keep an eye out if we do.”

“You’re from the surface! What do you know about fighting Darkspawn?” Orta asked, “there aren’t even any expeditions planned until they settle this election… Otherwise, you need special permission from the Assembly or some great lord.”

“Considering that we’re Grey Wardens,” Alistair said dryly, “we actually know a lot about Darkspawn.”

“Grey Wardens…? Mother always said that if anyone could find the thaig, it was the Wardens,” Orta replied quickly changing her tune, “I hear Prince Bhelen and Lord Harrowmont have both been sending out small teams these days… yes if you can find the thaig, and any records, that could do it! That could prove I’m a noble! If you could… maybe, now that you’re looking… it’s almost too much to hope.”

“Why are they sending out teams into the Deep Roads?” Alistair asked.

“They’re apparently looking for Branka,” Orta replied, “she and her entire house disappeared into the Deep Roads two years ago.”

“I see…” she replied thoughtfully, “well, we should get back to Tapsters.”

Thinking about the day’s events, they should probably discuss what they’d learned of the situation thus far. Though chances were that they’d be seen as people who could tip the scales one way or another, in which case, they should be careful of what they discuss in the city. There could be ears on the doors to the rooms they were staying in. It seemed like the kind of scheming that a cut-throat political atmosphere like this would engage in.

So, now the question was how to discuss it safely.

Oh! Dwarves were super against being on the surface, and Bodahn was parked outside of the city… she could use this.

Thank you, Bodahn for not wanting to enter the city for whatever reason!

“Is this some form of mass suicide?” Sten asked.

“I wish,” Shale replied dryly, “a brawl would be a pleasant diversion right about now.”

“A Dwarven Tavern…” Wynne said, “I’ve always wanted to try some of their ale. I hear it’s quite potent.”

“This is the one they recommended, my dear Warden,” Zevran said as a tankard of black liquid was pressed into her hands.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been drunk before,” she commented staring at it dubiously.

“You’ve never been drunk before?” Alistair asked incredulously.

“Yeah,” she nodded.

“What is there to fear, my dear Warden?” Zevran asked with a grin, “you and I have high alcohol tolerances, yes?”

“We do, but I’ve never had it before,” she replied sniffing it, “so I’m a little scared.”

“I tried it once,” Alistair recounted, “I thought it was just something they tricked surfacers into drinking, as a joke.”

“That doesn’t help my fear… alright, enough stalling,” she replied dryly as she began psyching herself up before taking a sip.

Strong.

It was strong.

She passed it off back to Zevran.

“Oh? Did you not like it?” Zevran asked raising a brow at her.

“Hmm? It was alright,” she replied before realizing what happened, “ohhh… I’m so used to sharing alcohol with you that I just passed it to you without even thinking about it.”

Also, she didn’t want to get drunk off of it.

Intoxication was something she had always been careful about since she didn’t want to start spouting random words that meant nothing here… She didn’t want the Templars sent after her just because she got drunk. And she definitely didn’t want to get drunk, _now_. If she started spouting random words and such from her past life, Morrigan might think Flemeth did indeed take over her body, or what with all the interactions they’d had with demons recently, they might even think that she had been possessed.

Plus she wasn’t sure what kind of drunk she was… What if she accidentally did something that screwed over her relationship with a certain someone? She doubted he would take advantage of a drunken stupor but… what if she pushed herself on him? That would be not good. She still doubted that he’d do something, but she was still repressing a large side of her that she didn’t want to either let out or acknowledge.

Ever.

And well, that thought was enough to sober her up.

***

His Warden had a point, in that they had spent a lot of time sharing drinks between them staring up at the night sky. Though, if he looked up right now, all they’ll see is the ceiling, and even if they were to leave the tavern, they would only see the top of the cave Orzammar had been carved into.

“I promise not to run away,” Kallian said standing up, “so I’m going to go tell Bodahn about the situation.”

“We’re coming too,” Alistair replied.

They all followed his Warden out of the city and moved to find Bodahn, where she spun around and leaned her back against his cart as she crossed her arms.

“So?” Kallian asked looking at all of them expectantly, “what are your thoughts on the situation?”

Such a clever woman, his Warden was.

She had tricked them into leaving the city so that they could discuss the situation without worrying about people listening in.

“I… don’t know how the Casteless can survive in these living conditions,” Wynne replied, “in which case, I would support Bhelen.”

“I was thinking that as well… Honestly, at this point, I’m not sure whose treated worse, City Elves, or Casteless. I mean… on one hand, City Elves have rights and can get jobs, but on the other? Another race doesn’t seek them out and objectify them because they like the way they look,” Kallian nodded, “though, I’m not quite sure that it’s our place to say so. Since we’re outsiders.”

“This is true,” he agreed, “I have not heard of any Dwarven Crows… I am not quite so sure there are any, truth be told.”

“Lucky bastards,” Kallian grumbled quietly.

“They’ll probably ask us to step in and meddle in their politics, though,” Alistair commented, “but I agree, Bhelen seems like the more solid choice between the two.”

“Though it’s honestly from our perspectives as outsiders,” Kallian noted, “but I would like to see a society move forward than stagnate.”

“Why do the poor not rise up against their betters?” Morrigan asked, “this I never understood.”

“Learned helplessness,” Kallian answered, “social constructs are constantly reinforced into their psyche, and their ability to see themselves as people with more worth has been crippled because of said reinforcement of social constructs. Like I said: chemical warfare is morally reprehensible, but I think that psychological warfare is far worse since it’ll fuck a country up for generations… This is a perfect example of that, really.”

As a Crow, he had been routinely told that he didn’t matter, his Warden had been the only person who had made him feel like he was more than a Crow. Even with Rinna, they had both been Crows, they had both been bound to the same rules and laws.

“You really know how people think,” Alistair commented.

“Of course I do,” Kallian replied, “compassion, understanding, and acceptance… in any case I figured it would be a good idea to get everyone on the same page, and in a place where there aren’t any unwanted ears listening in.”

“Good idea,” Alistair nodded.

“Now, I wish to enjoy the sky in peace, for a moment… as this will likely be the last I see it for a while,” Kallian said waving them off, “so shoo-shoo… I already promised I wouldn’t run away, and you should know by now that I don’t deal in false promises, mrow.”

“I will make sure she does not return to the Circle,” he added.

“I can’t believe I’m trusting you with this,” Alistair sighed, “but here I am.”

“I don’t know what you have against Zevran,” Kallian replied.

“He tried to kill us!” Alistair argued.

“That was so long ago I don’t even remember it,” Kallian shrugged continuing to wave them off, “and Bodahn, Sandal, and Diana are here too, nya.”

“Enchantment?” Sandal asked.

“Sorry, not this time, buddy,” Kallian replied.

“Awww…” Sandal replied despondently.

“Ah, wait, Ali-butt, can you hold on to these for me?” Kallian asked handing him her main weapons.

“…Oh, right, you never carry weapons out in the open while in cities and villages,” Alistair replied taking them, “sure.”

“Thanks, mya,” Kallian replied.

He watched his Warden move to one of the crates in Bodahn’s cart, and popped the lid off and reached her hand inside, before pulling out a bottle of cider.

“You really like cider, don’t you, my dear Warden?” he asked.

“Mhm… it is one of my favorites, yes,” Kallian hummed as she poured the contents out into a container that she then set on the fire that Bodahn and Sandal had going, “but hot cider on cold days is bliss… especially since it’s so easy. You just heat it up and you’re good to go.”

While she waited for the cider to heat up, she began shoving blankets into a bag that he had a feeling would be making its way to Dust Town later. He also saw her stuff large quantities of candies into the pockets of her sleeves.

“Then you did not like the Dwarven Ale?” he asked as she took the container off the fire and poured its contents into a mug.

“It was a bit strong for my tastes,” Kallian replied blowing on the hot cider before taking a sip, “I’m going to guess that you’ll be coming to Dust Town with me?”

“Considering that we were ambushed when we went there earlier, yes,” he replied taking the mug from her and taking a drink, savoring the flavor of the heated liquid on his tongue before passing it back.

“Why do you have no faith in me and my abilities? You don’t have to be so protective, I can clearly handle myself… Annie’s here too.”

Diana barked in affirmation.

“True… however, there is also the simple fact that I enjoy passing the time with you,” he replied, “would you rather I didn’t?”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Kallian replied, “no… plus this way I’ll be able to make good use of you.”

“Oh? What do you have in mind, my dear Warden?”

If she but gave the word, he would gladly give himself to her in his entirety… Though at this point, he practically already had, the only thing she needed to do was accept him.

He knew that deep down, she wanted to.

But that desire was buried down under a thousand layers of secrets, and guarded by the ghosts that plagued her.

“Surprise nug pet for Leliana,” Kallian answered bidding farewell to Bodahn, and Sandal for the time being.

“…What?” he asked incredulously taking the sack of blankets from her.

Even Diana gave a whine of confusion.

“Surprise nug pet for Leliana,” Kallian repeated, “I want to get a Leliana a nug… It’ll be hilarious.”

That was not the answer he expected.

Still, it did sound rather amusing.

“Then I’m guessing we should avoid being spotted by Leliana, yes?” he asked.

“Yes,” Kallian nodded as they began making their way to Dust Town.

“Excellent,” he replied, “because I spotted someone who might be interested in smuggling lyrium to the Circle, and we will be returning there to get permission for that eager young lass, Dagna, yes?”

“Mhm,” Kallian replied as they saw Leliana talk to Brother Burkel and then follow him into a building, likely where he was holding a prayer meeting, “we’re getting in on the lyrium smuggling game, then?”

‘We’re’.

Meaning both of them, meaning it was something that they were going to do together.

Once again, he found himself hoping that she continued to remain ignorant of the changes occurring in their relationship.

***

When she left Brother Burkel’s prayer meeting, she was greeted with the sight of both Kallian and Zevran freezing in place as Kallian carried something cute, adorable, and absolutely perfect in her arms as if she were cradling a baby, Diana standing right next to them.

It was… an interesting sight, to say the least.

It was almost as though she had gotten to see a glimpse of the future… in that, if she replaced the animal with an Elven child, it would be the perfect image of a family outing. A family outing that she very much wished she could one day see come to pass. Though, she hoped that when that day _did_ come to pass, Kallian would be free from the despair that plagued her.

“Uhm… surprise…?” Kallian said sheepishly holding it out to her.

“Oh! It’s one of those subterranean bunny-pigs!” she cooed taking it from her, “ohhh, look at him! Come here, you…”

“Careful, he nips,” Zevran cautioned, “though why you would want a nug for a pet is beyond me.”

“He’s probably just hungry… ohhh, he’s snuffling me!” she squealed happily setting the nug down as she giggled, “snuffle, snuffle!”

“I’m glad you like him,” Kallian said with a grin, “from the looks of it, I’d call it love at first sight.”

“What exactly is ‘love at first sight’, my dear Warden?” Zevran asked.

“Instant attraction as soon as you lay your eyes on someone or something,” Kallian answered, “Annie and I fell in love with each other at first sight, right?”

Diana gave a bark of agreement.

Zevran probably didn’t know that he had fallen in love at first sight with Kallian.

That he was completely and utterly irrevocably madly in love with her. He likely knew he was incredibly attracted to her, and that he cared for her dearly, but he probably wasn’t aware of exactly how smitten with her he was.

“Thank you two so much,” she said with a smile, “you’ve both made my day.”

“Of course!” Kallian replied cheerfully, “though, I was honestly planning on tying a ribbon around his neck before giving him to you…”

“I think, I will name him ‘Schmooples’,” she cooed at her pet nug.

“Interesting choice of name,” Zevran remarked dryly.

“Eh, I don’t like normal names for pets,” Kallian replied, “Diana is honestly, too normal for me.”

“Then why did you name her Diana?” she asked.

“It’s… a story,” Kallian replied looking to the side, her cheeks slightly flushed in embarrassment.

She really was adorable when she was embarrassed.

“How intriguing,” Zevran purred, “surely you would be willing to tell us?”

“No,” Kallian replied shaking her head, “I am not.”

“Why not?” she asked as Kallian simply began to literally walk away from the conversation.

“Because no means no,” Kallian replied.

***

Even she could tell that there were some changes happening in the relationship between Kallian and Zevran.

But ‘twas not enough.

Zevran was trying, ‘twas true, but Kallian continued to refuse.

“Hey, Morrigan,” Kallian said walking up to her as she, Leliana, and Zevran returned to Tapsters, “I have something for you.”

“What have you there? A mirror?” she asked as Kallian handed her a familiar-looking mirror and she couldn’t help but be momentarily awestruck, “it is… just the same as the mirror which Flemeth smashed on the ground, so long ago… It is incredible that you found one so like it…”

“I saw it and thought of you,” Kallian grinned, “one of the vendors here was selling it, and I remembered the story you told me about the mirror.”

“I am uncertain what to say,” she replied, “you must wish something in return, certainly.”

“Mmm… not really,” Kallian replied, “it’s a gift, nya.”

“You say that as if I should be accustomed to such a thing… I have… never received a gift,” she replied, “not one which did not come at a price.”

“I know I said something about not receiving free things from strangers,” Kallian replied wryly, “but I thought we were well past that phase… Though, thinking about it, this was Zevran’s reaction to me giving him Dalish gloves too.”

Zevran, the assassin who needed to hurry up and stop Kallian from drowning.

Though, she imagined that ‘twas not easy, the woman was stubborn and secretive…

Sometimes she wondered if Flemeth had indeed simply taken Kallian’s body instead, but she knew that she hadn’t. Kallian had always been this way, not only that, but Kallian’s gentle kindness wasn’t something that she saw Flemeth being capable of. They were both masters of manipulation, yes, but Kallian was also incredibly kind, gentle, and compassionate. She didn’t think of love as something unnecessary, and that fact was all she needed to know that her Mother had not taken over her body.

“I suppose I should say thank you,” she said trying to keep her voice steady, “for the gift… ‘tis… most thoughtful, truly…”

“Of course, Morrigan,” Kallian smiled.

…If Zevran fails, perhaps he would be willing to help her smuggle the woman out of the country. It’s been proven that she’s not impervious to sleeping spells, they could even placate her by stowing her in a crate… She might hate them for it, but that was something she was sure both of them would be willing to live with.

Even if she never forgave either of them for it.

***

Orzammar was his responsibility, he would be the one to secure the alliance with the Dwarves. This was something he’d likely have to get used to, considering that that’s what kings did: meet with foreign leaders and stuff… Kallian had also spent a lot of time preparing him for something like this… And if he didn’t perform well, then he wasn’t looking forward to her wrath.

And it wasn’t as if Orzammar would be his only concern: he would still likely have to play an important part in the Landsmeet.

Though, when they took a peek at the Assembly that was in session, and they were all yelling at each other.

He’ll likely be stuck in a similar position in the future.

He wasn’t looking forward to that, though, of course, he’d have allies at his side.

Like Elissa, and Kallian.

And he supposed he _could_ send Zevran to kill people if he really needed to, considering Kallian would be busy helping him with governmental affairs, and the chances of Zevran continuing to stay near Kallian were extremely high. He highly doubted that the assassin would ever leave her side, or that the thought had even so much as crossed his mind.

He was fairly certain that he wasn’t the only one who’d fallen in love at first sight.

Not that he blamed him, Kallian had beauty and grace in spades… Even he had fancied her for a bit. 

What with how charismatic, compassionate, and confident she was…

Just… he soon realized that she was too much for him, and there was no way he’d ever be able to handle her.

That was the conclusion he’d reached after he saw that her true colors were that of a playful trickster.

Not only that but the woman could be completely and utterly terrifying, something he wasn't sure he would be able to deal with.

That devious, malicious, and completely and utterly threatening side of hers? No thank you.

Though Zevran seemed to like that side of her a great deal, and he had a feeling that he was grateful that she had that kind of side to her since that part of her was what had kept potential suitors away from her in her past.

And then he met Elissa, and no other woman mattered.

He missed her.

“Stone-forsaken fools and dusters…” the Dwarf who had tried to moderate the meeting grumbled, “I’m sorry. This is the Assembly of the Clans. Only deshyrs and occasional guests of state are allowed in.”

“We’re just observing,” he replied, “pay us no mind.”

“Oh, Stone! You must be the Grey Wardens,” the Dwarf sighed, “I completely forgot about the gate guard’s message.”

“It’s alright,” he replied, “you clearly have your hands full.”

“Welcome to Orzammar, Wardens,” the Dwarf replied, “I hope you can forgive our unrest. The loss of our king has hit us hard.”

“Ours has as well,” Kallian replied, “the surface is currently, in a similar state of upheaval.”

“I see… respect for your role is great, but, unfortunately, you won’t receive a proper hearing until we have a king on the throne.”

“A Blight is coming,” he stated.

“Troubling, but it will still seem distant compared to the empty throne… the Assembly is blind to all else.”

“Is there any way we can break this stalemate?” he asked.

“I must admit, Warden, I am at a loss myself. It lies with Prince Bhelen or Lord Harrowmont, and they are slow to trust anyone in these uncertain times… I only wish there was more I could do for you.”

Well, luckily, thanks to Kallian’s foresight, they’d already discussed who they’d be supporting… The guard at the entrance had said that Bhelen spoke through his Second who could be found at the Assembly, Vartag Gavorn.

And there was only one other Dwarf in the entrance hall of the Assembly.

“Wardens, welcome, it is always a blessing for Orzammar to host your order,” Vartag said greeting them, “I am Vartag Gavorn, top adviser to our good Prince Bhelen.”

“Greetings,” he replied, “my name is Alistair, and this is my fellow Warden, Kallian.”

“ _Atrast vala,_ it is a pleasure to meet you,” Kallian replied nodding politely.

It seemed that his fellow Warden was already picking up on some of their customs.

“A pleasure to meet you as well,” Vartag replied, “tell me: what news do you bring?”

“We seek aid against the Blight,” he answered holding up the treaty.

“Yes, the treaty… I’ve seen it in the Shapers’ libraries,” Vartag nodded, “now, the difficulty is that the treaty only compels our _King_ , and we are sadly lacking one of those right now.”

“Is there a way we can speak to Bhelen?” he asked.

“You must understand, Harrowmont hides behind his good reputation while sending spies and assassins,” Vartag explained, “Bhelen can’t know who to trust… It’s been like a knife in the heart for Bhelen to see so many of his Father’s men stand with the usurper.”

He was with the Trio of Tricksters, who might as well all be assassins and spies. Kallian being the only one to not have officially worked as one, as she was more in favor of being a vigilante, and bringing down her wrath on only those she deemed worthy of the brunt of her maliciousness.

“I promise: none of us are working for Harrowmont,” he replied, he could claim that he wasn’t either a spy nor an assassin, but there was still Zevran and Leliana to consider.

“Would you be willing to prove that?” Vartag asked, “Harrowmont has engaged in a campaign of bribery and coercion to ensure that every house serves him… but if a neutral party, a stranger, were to approach certain key members, perhaps with irrefutable evidence of Harrowmont’s deception… I’m certain my lord prince would show his gratitude.”

“What kind of evidence?” Kallian asked speaking up.

“Harrowmont promised the same portion of his estate to two different deshyrs, Lady Dace and Lord Helmi. Harrowmont can’t possibly grant it to both of them, but they won’t find out until after the vote is cast… I have copies of the promissory notes Harrowmont gave each of them. Once they see those, they should both reconsider their votes.”

“And where on earth did you manage to gather those?” Kallian asked raising her brow.

“That’s not important,” Vartag replied dismissively, “if they ask, say you found them while searching the Shapers’ Libraries for your treaty.”

That probably meant that they were forged documents.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to support someone using underhanded schemes…

Though it was likely something he’d have to get used to, after all, Kallian used underhanded schemes to get her way when she saw fit. From tricking her way into Haven to luring men through the back alleys of Denerim, to busting smuggling and slaving operations in Denerim. Leliana likely also used underhanded methods to get what she needed to get done, and they were both still very kind and caring people.

They were just kind and caring people willing to get their hands dirty to accomplish whatever needs to be done.

“We’ll find Lady Dace and Lord Helmi then,” he replied.

“Lady Dace doesn’t leave the quarter much, but Lord Helmi’s adventurous, likes to spend his time at Tapsters… in the Commons,” Vartag explained, “remember, don’t tell them you got these papers from me. You learned of them and drew your own conclusions.”

“Well, considering the Trio of Tricksters are right here,” he replied gesturing to them, “I think we’ll manage.”

“Yeah, we’ll handle this one,” Kallian nodded taking the documents, “we are, after all, masters of this type of thing, nyaaa… though your cover sucks, so we’ll need to go figure out a new angle to approach this with, nya-nyon.”

The three moved off into a nearby corner to whisper to each other quietly, he heard Zevran suggest that they say they got the papers off of one of the people who attacked them in Dust Town. Then he heard Kallian ask why someone would risk attacking them with important papers like these on them. Leliana suggested that they accidentally stumbled into a meeting between the Dwarf who stole them and the Carta and they were forced to fight them and found the papers on their bodies.

He wasn’t sure if they’d need that in-depth of a story but it seemed like they were having fun, so he decided to just let them roll with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually once had an idea where Zevran kidnapped Kalli by knocking her out and stowing the both of them away on a boat. And she woke up just as the city fell and got amnesia from the stress of it.
> 
> I decided that such a story was too dark for me, and scrapped it.
> 
> Decided to pay a bit of an homage to it.


	46. How the Cat Worked for the Dwarven Prince

Wait… Lord Helmi could probably be found in Tapsters…

There was an actual lord in Tapsters who had more information on the situation… it wasn’t just a cover.

Oops.

“I heard there were Grey Wardens here,” Dulin said ambushing them after they left the Assembly, “I am Dulin Forender, Second to Lord Harrowmont, King Endrin’s own choice as successor.”

“ _Atrast vala,_ ” she replied civilly to keep suspicions from arising, “my name is Kallian, and this is Alistair.”

“Word is spreading that the surface may suffer a Blight,” Dulin replied, “it is shameful we are not in a better position to help.”

“Well, we do have a treaty obliging Orzammar to aid against the Blight,” Alistair replied also keeping their deal with Vartag Gavorn on the quieter side of things for now.

“That may be, and that is a terrible risk for the surface… but even if the world would end tomorrow, Lord Harrowmont cannot ignore Bhelen today,” Dulin replied, “he cannot afford to trust anyone of unproven loyalties.”

“So, what do you want us to do?” Alistair asked, “denounce Bhelen publicly?”

“If you wish to show you have no loyalty to Bhelen, then work against him in Harrowmont’s name,” Dulin answered, “Bhelen is hosting a Proving today, supposedly to honor his Father’s memory… The deshyrs take it very seriously, and unfortunately, Bhelen found some way to either blackmail or intimidate House Harrowmont’s best fighters into stepping down.”

“So?” she asked, “what is it that you’d like from us, then? Do you want us to enter the Proving in Harrowmont’s name?”

“It would certainly make your loyalties loud and clear,” Dulin replied.

“And this is to be your king?” Zevran chuckled, “one who cannot keep his own men from running like frightened children?”

She could kill him.

Come to think of it… Alistair was being a little suspicious towards Zevran again lately… why was that? They seemed to be getting on just fine, and he trusted him enough for them to be alone together before… so what happened?

“Lord Harrowmont does not use threats or intimidation to motivate his men,” Dulin replied, “he leads by example.”

“Ah, I see… so it’s his example they follow as they cower from Prince Bhelen?” Zevran asked.

“How dare you slander Lord Harrowmont!” Dulin glared.

“Why should we ally ourselves with someone whose men not only flee from another,” Zevran asked, “but is also too scared to even grant us an audience?”

“Zevran…” she sighed, “your snide comments aren’t helping.”

“I’m just saying, that were I you,” Zevran replied, “I would seek a stronger king than this Harrowmont.”

He has strong feelings on this matter…

Well, either that or he hated being in Orzammar.

A caged bird will always dream of the sky, huh?

“Surely, you don’t mean Bhelen,” Dulin replied aghast.

“I would like time for us to consider this,” Alistair replied making sure to keep in a tone that left no room for argument while she stepped on Zevran’s foot, “so if it’s all the same to you, we’ll discuss this matter between ourselves and get back to you later.”

With that, they took their leave.

She had no idea what he was trying to do.

She really didn’t.

Though, it did make her briefly entertain the thought of throwing someone into the pit of lava just so that she could hear them scream as they burned to death.

This place really wasn’t good for her… she should have another horror novel somewhere in her pack…

“By the way, Ali-butt,” she commented, “can you decide whether you want to trust Zevran or not already? You’re confusing me. You seemed like you were both getting along fine, and then all of a sudden you don’t trust him again.”

“I do but then I don’t,” Alistair replied.

“Ali-butt, if he wanted to kill me, he’s had dozens of chances to do so,” she pointed out, “considering how often I wander off on my own… so what’s going on?”

“I know,” Alistair sighed, “but I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you actually took a hit.”

“What?”

“I’ve only seen you hurt three times. Total,” Alistair replied, “the first time, was when you almost died trying to save my life. The second was when you were attempting to fight yourself… can you blame me for being a little thrown off by you getting injured?”

“Ah, you thought I was invincible, and now you’re trying to deal with the realization that I _can_ actually get physically hurt in normal combat,” she nodded, “since the first time we were cornered in a circular room and swarmed, and the second time, it was me fighting against myself… got it.”

“Ahhhh… so that’s why you’ve been more cautious,” Zevran said butting into their conversation, “though you did seem to trust me to help treat her in the heat of the moment.”

“It’s true, you did,” Leliana nodded.

“Well, it’s normal to be a little irrational after revelations like that,” she replied.

After wandering about she saw Lady Dace, or at least who she thought was Lady Dace.

“What do you want?” Lady Dace asked, “ah, I suppose you’re the Grey Wardens everyone’s talking about.”

“Yes, my name is Kallian,” she replied, “are you Lady Dace?”

“I am,” Lady Dace replied, “and what business would you have with me?”

“You might want to look at these papers,” she replied handing the documents over.

“Well… this isn’t exactly a surface broadsheet,” Lady Dace replied looking over them, “where did you get these? Never mind. It is true enough. But there is nothing I can do about it… This deal was made on behalf of our entire house. Only my Father can revoke it.”

But… but the story they came up with…

“Well, will you tell him?” she asked keeping how upset she was that her story wouldn’t be used here from her face and voice.

“I cannot… not for weeks,” Lady Dace explained, “he’s leading a Deep Roads expedition, trying to secure an ancient thaig… It’s unlikely he’ll be back before the election, but perhaps this vote is important enough for you to brave the tunnels to tell him? The Dace family would be in your debt.”

“How would we know where to find your Father?” she asked.

“He was searching an old Aeducan site,” Lady Dace answered, “he left me with this map, in case his expedition never returned… I’ll give you a pass as well. Usually, no one is allowed past the front lines… Does that mean you’ll go?”

“Yes,” she nodded.

“So Bhelen’s victory means enough for you to risk your life,” Lady Dace mused, “how interesting…”

As they walked back to the Commons, where both Tapsters and the entrance to the Deep Roads were, she overheard someone, Oghren apparently, angrily yelling about the missing Paragon Branka.

She decided to keep out of that bit of business.

They should probably head to the Deep Roads first… Get to Lord Dace before he gets too far away from the city.

They should also probably tell the others that they were heading into the Deep Roads for a bit… Though she had no clue where the rest of them were… and her main weapons were in the room she had been sharing with Morrigan in Tapsters.

Lord Helmi first it is!

“Ancestors, guard my son, for he is lost in darkness, Mothers, keep him safe, for you know what it is to mourn,” a Woman prayed as they moved towards Tapsters, and curiosity bade her to move towards her, “I’m sorry, did you have an offering for the Ancestors? Although… I can’t imagine _your_ ancestors reside in the Stone.”

“ _Atrast vala,_ my name is Kallian,” she replied introducing herself, “you were praying for your son?”

“Yes… my name is Filda, widow of Teruck of the Smith Caste. I pray here every day for my son, Ruck,” Filda explained, “I only wish I knew whether I should be asking for his safe return or for the Ancestors to accept his soul.”

“What happened to him?” she asked soothingly.

“It was five years ago… he was only a youngster,” Filda explained, “he joined a Deep Roads excursion— the only smith to go with the warriors to repair their arms. He was so proud… but he got… separated somehow. When they came home, he wasn’t with them.”

“Did anyone go after him?” she asked.

“The captains don’t want to lose anyone searching for stray men…” Filda replied, “too many were taken by Darkspawn that way.”

“I can look for him if you’d like,” she offered

“How?” Filda asked, “there is no way except to brave the Deep Roads yourself.”

“Well, we have plans to head into the Deep Roads soon,” she replied.

“And we’re Grey Wardens,” Alistair added.

“Wardens! So you _could_ do it! Only Wardens face the Deep Roads without a company backing them,” Filda said excitedly, “oh, thank you! The Ancestors finally heed my prayers!”

“Hmph… Don’t get your hopes up,” Zevran scoffed, “we could search the Deep Roads for decades with no sight of the boy.”

Hmm… Why is he upset? Why does he have strong emotions regarding this? Is it because he lost his own Mother and didn’t have parents who would pray for his safe return? Or was it because he hated being in Orzammar and didn’t expect to like the Deep Roads more than this place? Or perhaps he wants them to be more realistic.

Or maybe her earlier suspicions of him just wanting to get their business here over and done with as quickly as possible.

“Please,” Filda said, “find me as soon as you return!”

With that, they entered Tapsters to talk to Lord Helmi, who she once thought was simply part of her cover.

“ _Atrast vala,_ my name is Kallian,” she said introducing herself, “and this is Alistair.”

“Lord Denek Helmi, honored deshyr of the Orzammar Assembly, and terrible disappointment to my esteemed Mother, who doesn’t like me spending time in taverns,” Lord Helmi said in greeting, “you understand what I’m saying, right? On the surface, there are no castes and it works fine. Am I right, Kallian?”

“Well… most Humans treat my people similarly to your casteless,” she replied, “though, we’re allowed to get jobs, buy homes, and such… Some Humans even come to respect us, like my Father… many nobles know his name for the work he does as a servant.”

“And there are those like you who _see_ this with concern, no?” Lord Helmi replied.

“Yeah, the caste system here is…” she drifted off.

“Well, I’ve taken the time to actually _talk_ to the other castes,” Lord Helmi replied, “you know, most smiths and tavern-keeps would make decent deshyrs if we gave them a chance and a seat in the Assembly. Orzammar is so mired in tradition no one bothers asking if the castes are even necessary.”

“I’ve begun thinking the same,” Alistair commented, “I mean… if Kallian’s anything to go by, Alienage Elves clearly have more insight in the inner workings of society than we give them credit for… not only that, but she has a lot of skills.”

“Most Alienage Elves accumulate at least two or more skills, because poverty,” she nodded before taking out the documents, “Lord Harrowmont is apparently double-dealing you and Lady Dace.”

“Pffft… Oh. Well, I’d ask for proof, or why you care, but frankly, I’m so tired of it I’m not even surprised anymore,” Lord Helmi sighed, “I don’t even want the land, but my house would kill me if I turned it down. Responsibilities, you know… Now I’ll have to go through the whole process of rejecting the deal, and they’ll both have to try something else… And here I thought it was going to be a nice day.”

But… but her stooorryyyy!

“Why vote for Harrowmont,” she asked, “if you didn’t want the land?”

“I actually thought he was the better candidate,” Lord Helmi answered, “you must think I’m pretty sodding naive, huh? They’re all the same: well-dressed, blood-sucking cave ticks.”

“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news,” she apologized.

“You’re just doing what you think is right,” Lord Helmi sighed, “now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll have to inform Mother that Lord Harrowmont hasn’t bought our vote after all.”

She moved to the room she was sharing with Morrigan to grab her weapons.

“We’re going into the Deep Roads for a bit,” she explained, “we should be back sometime tomorrow.”

“Be careful,” Wynne replied, “I’ve heard that the Deep Roads can be rather dangerous.”

“Of course,” she grinned, “I’m always careful.”

“I’ll come as well,” Sten said, “I’m getting tired of this place.”

“As am I,” Shale nodded.

“Well… if everyone comes along, I suppose we’ll be able to get there faster,” she closed her eyes in thought, “especially if we meet with resistance.”

Diana barked in agreement as she made Alistair carry her main weapons.

Not gonna lie, he looked a little silly with two swords, a dagger, and a shield.

They all moved towards the entrance to the Deep Roads on the other side of the Commons.

“This no doubt leads out to the Deep Roads,” Morrigan commented, “the ancient passages that once led to the other Dwarven Kingdoms.”

“I hear they’re crawling with Darkspawn,” Wynne said.

“The Deep Roads are home to the Darkspawn,” Alistair replied, “oddly, they’re supposed to be safer to travel during a Blight.”

“Probably because they’re amassing numbers on the surface,” she replied.

“At least there are no pigeons,” Shale remarked.

“Why would such a small people build things so tall?” Sten asked, “they must own an impressive array of ladders.”

“Or rock climbing equipment,” she replied, “they could put hooks in the ceiling and use a pulley system.”

She moved closer to the guards.

“What’s this? An Elf?” the Captain said incredulously, “I’m sorry, but I cannot allow you past the front lines without a deshyr’s permission… and I’ve heard nothing of any new patrols scheduled to leave today.”

“We’re looking for Lord Dace’s patrol,” Alistair said holding up the seal that Lady Dace had given them.

“I see you have his daughter’s seal, so I will not stop you,” the Captain replied, “but be careful. Just because the beasts have pulled back from Orzammar doesn’t mean there are any fewer in the Deep Roads… Either we finally have the edge, which I doubt, or the beasts are building up numbers for the next attack.”

“Actually, they’ve made their move…” Alistair replied, “on the surface.”

“The surface!” Another Guard exclaimed, “but I thought the vermin never went up that far except—”

“Except during Blights,” the Captain finished, “Ancestors save us if that’s what’s happening.”

“Are Darkspawn the only danger in these tunnels?” she asked.

“Of course not,” the Captain scoffed, “down here, you’re bound to run into giant spiders, deepstalkers, and other vermin.”

“Oh… wonderful,” she replied.

“Deepstalkers?” Morrigan asked.

“Ugly beasts, they are. Walk on two legs, but they have the head of a worm, and hunt in packs,” the Captain explained, “watch out, they’re not afraid to take on a group their own size.”

“Are there no Dwarves past this point?” Wynne asked.

“A few outposts. Legion of the Dead, mostly, fools that they are,” the Captain answered, “some scavenger types, too.”

“Legion of the Dead?” she asked.

“It’s an independent company of soldiers. They accept no command but their own,” the Captain explained, “anyone who can bear arms can join, no matter his or her crimes… or sanity. They hold a funeral when they join and swear their only goal is a glorious death.”

“Rather admirable of them,” she replied, “in any case, we should be off.”

“Best of luck,” the Captain replied waving them off.

Putting on her gloves, she took her weapons from Alistair and secured them to her hips.

***

Once they left the city, his Warden began sulking, likely because the cover story they came up with went to complete and utter waste.

It was both rather amusing as well as endearing, though he much preferred her smiles, despite the fact that all of them continued to have that tinge of sadness she carried around with her.

“To be honest,” Alistair commented, “I didn’t think you would need that elaborate of a story, to begin with.”

“I can’t believe they just accepted it though!” Kallian protested, “without asking where we got them from!”

“Maybe Lord Dace will wonder how we acquired them?” Leliana replied.

“With the way Lady Dace and Lord Helmi just accepted it?” Kallian pouted, “I doubt it.”

His Warden broke the neck of a Deep Stalker by stomping on it, kicking another one into a wall, one lunged at her, and she caught it and snapped its neck in her hands. 

Shale was similarly stomping on them in order to kill them.

“Are you just going to kill them with your hands?” Alistair asked, “I mean you have your main weapons now.”

“Yeah but… they’re so low to the ground, it’s annoying,” Kallian replied continuing to stomp and kick the life out of them, crushing one of their heads under her feet, “also, I’m a little annoyed.”

“Darkspawn,” Alistair called out.

There were more deepstalkers than Darkspawn in these tunnels, and he was also getting tired of dealing with them.

“Hold the body!” a Voice shouted, “don’t let them get off with another one!”

They entered the fray, Wynne, Morrigan, and Leliana doing the most damage to them, while his Warden and Shale simply killed them without the use of their weapons… or at least his Warden dealt with them without the use of her weapons. Shale was their own weapon.

“Careful! I don’t think that’s the last of them!” the Man called out.

Another wave erupted from the ground, and they were swiftly dealt with.

“You pulled us from a tight spot, friend. You have my gratitude… I am Lord Anwer Dace,” Lord Dace said, “so how does an Elf come to be down here, anyway?”

“You should look at these papers,” Kallian replied holding out the documents.

“I don’t understand… what could—? These are the terms of a deal we made with Lord Harrowmont, but… the charlatan! He’s promised the exact same land to Helmi!” Lord Dace replied taking the documents from her, “thank you for bringing this to my attention… I owe you twice now, my life and my house’s fortune.”

“Will you tell your daughter not to vote for Lord Harrowmont?” Alistair asked.

“We will certainly not support a man who would use my family like that. I will tell everyone I know what a wretched trick Harrowmont tried to play,” Lord Dace nodded, “I must return now… my men need healing and I want to look into this. Do you wish to travel with us?”

“Sure,” Alistair nodded, “safety in numbers, right?”

“Then let us reach Orzammar before more beasts find our scent,” Lord Dace replied.

They began the trek back to Orzammar, his Warden sulking the entire way back.

“My dear Warden,” he said matching her pace, “at least this matter has been handled, yes?”

“I guess,” Kallian replied continuing to pout.

Hmm… what could he do to get her to stop pouting? She liked sweets, though she had a fair amount of them within her sleeves. She also liked alcohol and staring at the night sky…

“Just think, my dear Warden,” he said, “the sooner we get through with this place, the sooner we can return to the surface, yes?”

“I do miss the sky,” Kallian replied wistfully.

“Once we’re through here,” he promised, “why don’t we share some Antivan Brandy?”

“Ohhh,” Kallian replied excitedly, “really?”

“Yes,” he chuckled.

In some ways, his Warden was a very simple woman, this was one of those ways.

***

Once again, it was up to him to do negotiations with Vartag, though, thankfully this time Kallian just had Diana carry her weapons for her rather than force him to meet with foreign dignitaries with three weapons and a shield. Morrigan, Sten, Wynne, and Shale wandered away again, not wanting to deal with the politics of the matter. Which was fine, since the three who knew how to deal with politics stayed with him.

“Lady Dace just came through the quarter on a tear… she’s telling everyone who’ll listen what a leech and a liar Harrowmont is… good job,” Vartag said, “so you were serious about wanting to help us… are you ready to meet Bhelen now?”

“We’re ready,” he nodded, “take us to him.”

“I warn you, be on your best behavior,” Vartag replied, “and keep your weapons sheathed.”

He saw Kallian pop a piece of candy into her mouth from the corner of his eye as they followed Vartag, and then gave one to both Leliana and Zevran when they stared at her expectantly.

He also heard the Trio of Tricksters murmuring quietly to themselves, though he couldn’t tell what they were saying.

“I am impressed, Wardens, not many outsiders so quickly grasp Orzammar’s rather… convoluted politics,” Bhelen said as they arrived in front of him, “I am Prince Bhelen. Vartag told me of your efforts against the usurper who tried to claim my Father’s throne.”

“I take it you’re not too fond of Harrowmont,” he replied he saw Kallian playing with Zevran’s hand in his periphery.

“Harrowmont spent his life in the Assembly. He only knows how to lead through compromise and capitulation,” Bhelen explained, “that’s not what Orzammar needs. The Darkspawn are massing for a Blight, the lands topside have been torn apart… We need a strong leader now, someone who can stand up to the Assembly. Someone who will rule, not persuade.”

“What would you do differently as King?” he asked.

“There is only one thing of importance when I take the throne: the Blight,” Bhelen replied, “we need absolute unity to fight against the fulcrum of true evil.”

He noticed that Bhelen didn’t answer his question in the slightest, and noted that the other three picked up on that as well.

“Then you’ll honor your agreement with the Wardens?” he asked deciding to gloss over it.

“Absolutely, and sworn on the mail of my ancestors… as soon as Orzammar is united under my rule,” Bhelen nodded, “unfortunately, while this debate rages, I have no power to send the troops you need… You’ve seen for yourself; the city is a slaughterhouse. Criminals run lawless. I could never hold the throne if I allowed such chaos.”

“How can we help you take the throne, then?” he asked.

“You have struck a blow against Harrowmont already, and I thank you for that. But there is another faction in play here,” Bhelen explained, “have you heard of a woman named Jarvia, and the Carta of criminals she runs?”

“What about them?” he asked.

“They know Orzammar is divided now and has no time for them. It’s made them bold,” Bhelen answered, “if I show the city I can eliminate such a threat… well, let’s just say my position would be stronger.”

“And let me guess,” he replied, “you want our help.”

“I’d never ask for such a thing, but if you do eliminate Jarvia and her thugs, you would have my gratitude, and my promise that as king, I will send as many troops as you need to fight the Darkspawn,” Bhelen replied, “unfortunately, I have little information on Jarvia. Her base of power is in Dust Town, the lowest part of the city, and my men have few sources there. Fortunately, I hear that you have people in your number who excel in information gathering?”

“We’ll look into it,” he replied, “that’s all I can promise.”

“Mm… some of the casteless would likely be willing to talk to me,” Kallian said closing her eyes in thought as she let go of Zevran, “since I gave them blankets.”

“That’s all I can ask,” Bhelen replied, “but I can be of no help until this problem is solved… and every minute we wait, more Darkspawn swarm into Human lands…”

“Alright, you three,” he said, “go gather what information you can.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Kallian replied with a salute.

“We’ll meet back at Tapsters in… I don’t know three hours?” he asked.

“Sounds like a plan,” Kallian nodded.

***

With Alistair out of the way, they were able to kill Ambassador Gainly, though his fully armored guards were kind of annoying to deal with… Though, she did notice that his guards carried the heraldry of Gwaren, and remembered that their first target claimed to be Howe’s elite… Kadan-Fe… were they part of Loghain’s group too?

She forgot.

“Took you long enough,” the Servant under the employ of the Crows said, “I’ll handle the rest.”

“Thanks,” she replied, “and sorry for being forced to deal with Ferelden’s crazy.”

“Say, you’re an accomplished apothecary, right?” the Servant asked, “there’s a woman who needs one in one of the suites.”

“Ah, I’ll take a look at her, then,” she nodded before leaving, “hey… do you guys remember when we killed the Kadan-Fe?”

“Of course, they were our second targets, after all,” Zevran replied.

“Did they have the Gwaren heraldry too?” she asked.

“I… don’t remember,” Leliana replied, “I didn’t think much of it at the time.”

“Neither did I,” Zevran replied.

“Ah, well, it’s probably not important,” she shrugged, “time to go to my favorite place in Orzammar: Dust Town… Huzzah… I’m so excited.”

“Isn’t that what I said before we entered the Gauntlet?” Zevran asked.

“Maybe?” she replied with another shrug, “oh, wait I forgot the lady who’s probably sick.”

They wandered through the palace and found the woman sick in bed.

“Please be quiet… my patient needs her rest,” her Attendant said, “fools and their politics… the poison was probably imported as a king killer, and she got dosed by mistake… I’ve never seen anything this potent.”

“Can I help?” she asked.

“Warden, I don’t know… maybe you’ve seen something like this on the surface. Maybe you’ve used something like it,” the Attendant replied handing her a note, “if you can chase these things down, I’ll thank you, but I won’t get my hopes up. The Stone will take her soon.”

She scanned the list and began taking reagents from her pack, to begin making the medicine, crushing the lifestone into a fine powder, and adding dried elfroot to it before funneling both powders into a flask and adding a concentrator agent to the mix. She re-corked the flask and shook it for a solid minute before handing it to the attendant.

“That should do it,” she said.

The Attendant administered the antidote, and the woman visibly relaxed and fell into a more peaceful sleep.

“She’ll be up and around in no time, thanks to you,” the Attendant said gratefully.

“Sooo… I don’t think we need three hours,” she hummed as they left the Royal Palace, “wanna check out the Provings?”

“Oh! Yes, I hear that if the spectators don’t approve of a matches outcome,” Zevran said, “they rush the field and kill the fighters.”

“I hear there are all kinds of rules that govern the Proving,” Leliana replied as they left the Diamond Quarter, “they get very mad if you break the rules.”

On their way to the Provings, they saw a group of thugs, the Carta, probably extracting protection fees from someone… and that someone didn’t have the money for it. So she decided to follow them inside.

They’d be dealing with the Carta soon, plus he might know something.

“T— This is all I have right now,” the Shop-Keep said, “I could get more if I sell something—”

“Well, well… looks like we have a visitor,” the Carta Thug said turning to them, “friend of yours?”

“You… g—get out of here!” the Shop-Keep said, “this is private business.”

“Is this man threatening you?” she asked.

“Please… don’t get involved with this,” the Shop-Keep begged, “you don’t know what they’re like!”

“Then allow me to make some introductions,” the Carta Thug replied, “these are dangerous times in Orzammar, stranger.”

“Indeed!” she replied.

“Lucky us, the merciful Jarvia is offering protection from the chaos… You’re wearing some fancy stuff there. Might make you a target,” the Carta Thug replied, “so if you want the Carta’s guarantee of safety, it’s yours for the reasonable price of ten gold sovereigns. Or I can’t say what might happen.”

“Sounds like a threat,” she hummed.

“Are you going to make your donation to the Stranger-Saftey Fund,” the Carta Thug glowered threateningly, “or do I have to show you how dangerous Orzammar is?”

“Take a good look,” she said with a smile, “do you _really_ want to start this, hm?”

“Whoa, whoa,” the Carta Thug said backing off quickly in the face of her intimidation, “alright you win… I’m not gonna die for a lousy ten sovereigns.”

They ran and she felt her mood improve.

“Ancestors bless you for saving my poor store,” the Shop-Keep said gratefully, “I don’t know how to express my gratitude.”

“What do you know about this Jarvia?” she asked.

“I—I’ve never met her, of course… they say she never leaves Dust Town,” the Shop-Keep answered, “she’s the one directing this depravity… Since good King Endrin died, they’re getting bolder… They used to be a problem only in Dust Town, but now they’re in the Commons, shaking honest men down for coin.”

“I see…” she replied, “well, thank you for your time.”

“May you walk with the Paragons,” the Shop-Keep replied.

***

They found Sten at the Provings, where Kallian was offered a spot to participate in them.

An offer that she took, especially considering that Diana had her main weapons.

And now they were watching her dazzle spectators with her unique fighting style, Zevran joining her, and then both she and Sten joining them for the last bout.

They dedicated their victory to Bhelen and then after recovering the book for the Shaperate, they were on their way to Dust Town.

“Hmph,” Sten huffed, “I thought their warriors, at least, would be bigger.”

“But it was fun,” Kallian replied.

“It’s been a while since I got to watch you fight without having to also fight at your side,” she hummed.

“Indeed!” Zevran replied happily, “you did marvelously.”

Kallian spotted a group of people who looked like they were waiting for them and pulled on her gloves, taking her main weapons from Diana.

Harrowmont fanatics.

“Maker’s breath,” Alistair sighed walking out of Tapsters, “maybe we shouldn’t split up after all.”

“Agreed,” Kallian nodded.

“What have you found so far?” Wynne asked.

“That Jarvia never leaves Dust Town,” Kallian answered.

“That’s all?” Alistair asked incredulously.

“Yes, we were only asking around the Commons, after all,” Kallian replied keeping quiet about their bouts in the Provings, “so let’s head to Dust Town, and find out more, hm?”

They went into Dust Town, and Kallian moved towards one of the Casteless in particular.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite overly tall but generous visitor…” the Woman replied, “how can I be of assistance?”

“Nadezda,” Kallian asked, “do you know a woman named Jarvia?”

“Know her? I used to run with her,” Nadezda replied, “Jarvia took over the Carta not more than a year ago, and already she’s got every duster with both legs bearing swords for her.”

“Where can we find her?” Alistair asked.

“Won’t be easy. She’s gotten real careful since Beraht died, real paranoid,” Nadezda replied, “she’s got Carta members all carrying these finger-bone tokens. She scratches some mark into them, so she’ll know they came from her… There’s doors to her base all over the city, but only one is ever open at a time, and if you show up without a token, you’d never know it was there.”

“Where do I find one of these tokens?” Kallian asked.

“Can’t help you there, _salroka_. The Carta members keep them real tight,” Nadezda replied, “but… that’s worth something, right? Maybe just a little…”

“Here,” Kallian replied handing the woman a small purse, “take care of yourself.”

“You really are as kind as you are beautiful,” Nadezda replied, “I really owe you when I get back on my feet.”

“No need,” Kallian replied shaking her head and Nadezda gestured for her to lend her her ear and after a bit of murmuring she straightened back up, “thanks a bunch.”

“You know her?” she asked.

“Ah… Last night, Zevran and I came by to hand out blankets,” Kallian replied.

“I see you’re having a good effect on him,” Wynne commented.

“I’m going to guess that Kalli wanted to hand out blankets,” Alistair replied, “and he just followed.”

“That’s basically the gist of it, yes,” Kallian replied.

“Well, that wasn’t the only reason I went along with her,” Zevran replied.

“He also helped me get a nug for you,” Kallian nodded.

“A… nug?” Shale asked, “why would the Sister want a nug?”

“For a pet,” Kallian replied.

“Great… now we have yet another animal to care for,” Morrigan groaned.

Diana growled angrily.

Ah, that’s right, the two had looked the very image of a family outing.

Kallian went into a building, that she guessed Nadezda told her about.

“Well, look what we have here…” a Carta Thug said.

“Jarvia said you were looking for trouble,” Another Thug added, “congratulations, you found it.”

After a fight, where they killed a few of them and Kallian focused their leader, they surrendered.

“D—Don’t kill me! Sodding Ancestors, what do they teach you on the surface? You fight like a bleedin’ Archdemon!” the Thug said, “sweet bloody Stone, look at them all!”

“Tell me how to find Jarvia,” Kallian smiled but her intimidation was on in full force, “or you’ll join them, mya.”

“The base is below the city. Y—you can get to it through the wall of the third house on this row… Put this token through the slot and it’ll open,” the Thug said handing over a finger-bone token, “will… will you let me go now?”

“Yes,” Kallian replied with a threatening smile, “and you won’t want to be at Jarvia’s when I get there, nyaa.”

“R—Really? Oh, thank you… you’re a… a good person,” the Thug replied, “how do they say it? The Ancestors have shown their favor. Bless you!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard a more threatening cat sound,” Wynne commented.

“Nya-nya,” Kallian replied making her hands into cat paws.

“Though, you’ll probably have to cut back on the cat sounds,” she remarked, “I don’t think other nobles will appreciate you making cat sounds at them.”

“…You’re going to make me give up my verbal tic?” Kallian asked in horror.

“You know… you weren’t this much of a cat when we met,” Alistair commented.

“Yeah, I know,” Kallian replied flatly, “I wasn’t as much of a wild animal back then either.”

***

She shoved the finger-bone token into the slot and the door opened, prompting her to take her weapons from Diana.

“What’s the password?” the Doorman asked.

“Ba-ba-da-ba! Congratulations! You win a special prize,” she replied throwing a knife into his eye, “it’s death!”

“They asked for a password,” Alistair commented after the fight, “not if they won a prize.”

“Well… it got us through, didn’t it?” she asked pulling her knife from the Dwarves eye.

All of them were here because it was safer this way… so really, the Carta had about a snowball's chance in hell.

“So, Bhelen finally realized his throne means nothing if he can’t hold it, yet he still doesn’t bother to send his own men,” who she guessed was Jarvia said, “well, you picked the wrong side, stranger. It doesn’t matter who’s kind, as long as there’s a queen!”

“Awfully cocky for someone whose entire Carta is dead,” she commented.

“You’ll pay for their deaths a hundred times over,” Jarvia snarled, “kill them! But leave the pretty one alive: I have plans for her.”

“I don’t take threats like that kindly, nya,” she replied with a smile.

They died twice as quickly.

“Well, with that, Bhelen should have a better bid for the throne,” Alistair sighed.

“Mmhm,” she nodded humming as they left through the path in the room, it led out into a familiar-looking shop.

She’d been here yesterday.

“Gah! By all the beards of my Ancestors!” Janar exclaimed, “how did you… where did you come from?! Y—You made a hole in my wall!”

“That hole leads to a tunnel in the Carta’s hideout,” Alistair replied.

“It… it does? Oh, sod it. If people find out about this, my business will be ruined!” Janar panicked, “they’ll think I have something to do with Jarvia!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Alistair replied, “Jarvia’s dead.”

“Dead? How? Did you… you did, didn’t you? You killed her! And then you climbed out of there into _my shop,_ ” Janar groaned, “aw, just leave me alone… I don’t want anything to do with this. And if anyone comes asking, I’m gonna tell them _you_ did it!”

“Sorry,” she apologized pulling out a purse of ten sovereigns and placed it on the table, “here… to help fix your wall.”

She quickly ushered everyone out.

“Sorry, Dagna, we haven’t left Orzammar yet,” she apologized.

“Oh! It’s okay,” Dagna replied, “you’ve clearly been busy.”

“We’ll go as soon as we’re able,” she promised.

Considering they also had lyrium that they needed to smuggle in there.

They moved back to the Royal Palace, and she moved to walk behind Alistair after handing her weapons over to Diana.

***

“Well, you’ve simply outdone yourself… not only did you dedicate your victories in the Provings to me,” Bhelen said and he looked towards Kallian who looked away, “but they’re talking all over the city about how someone finally went through Dust Town and slaughtered the Carta like Genlocks.”

When did she compete in the Provings?

“They deserved to die for their crimes,” he nodded.

“Everyone in Orzammar agrees,” Bhelen replied, “you have done the city a great service. I promise, as soon as I take the throne, I will send the troops you need.”

“Then we’ll do whatever it takes to get you on the throne,” he replied.

“I was hoping you’d say that… Killing Jarvia brought me greater favor, but to truly displace Harrowmont, we’ll need something dramatic enough to end the debate forever,” Bhelen explained, “what do you know of the Paragon Branka?”

“She was a smith and an inventor,” Kallian supplied, “elevated to Paragon status for the invention of a smokeless coal.”

“Two years ago, she heard of something the ancients created. It inspired her to leave everything behind and venture into the Deep Roads,” Bhelen nodded, “she is the only Paragon in four generations and she turned her back on her responsibilities… A Paragon, as you know, is like an Ancestor born in this time. If she returned, her vote would outweigh the entire Assembly. Anyone with her support could take the throne unchallenged.”

“What makes you think Branka’s still alive?” he asked, “two years is a long time.”

“She had an entire house with her, dedicated to her protection. With the number of ruins still intact, they could last for a long time,” Bhelen replied, “and Harrowmont is looking as well. It’s too risky to assume she’s dead, only to have him take credit for finding her.”

“What is Branka like?” Kallian asked.

“I did not know her personally. Two years ago, I was still considered a child, not one to consort with Orzammar’s finest. From what I hear, her intellect was unrivaled, but the social graces were… beneath the notice of one so gifted.”

“And what if Branka won’t support you?” he asked.

“I was hoping you could use your legendary charm to persuade her that the rightful king should take the throne. However, if the Deep Roads have… addled her wits, it might be best she not return before kingship is decided.”

“Are you saying we should kill her?” he asked incredulously.

“I would never say that. She is a Paragon; it is my duty to protect her. On the other hand, we must respect her decisions… Should she prefer to stay in the Deep Roads rather than help her rightful king take the throne, we must assist her. By any means necessary.”

Yep, he was saying that they should kill her.

“Where is Caridin’s Cross?” Kallian asked.

“You must enter the Deep Roads through the mines. To protect the city, that’s the only path we leave open. Caridin’s Cross lies many miles deep into the tunnels, it will probably take you a few weeks to reach it. It was once a main thoroughfare, but before Branka, no one had stepped foot there in generations.”

“We’ll secure our travel preparations and leave first thing in the morning,” he nodded.

“Let me know if there’s anything you need help with,” Bhelen replied.

“A beast of burden or two would be great, as would provisions for food and water,” Kallian replied, “everything else we should be able to handle on our own.”

“I’ll see to it that you get set up with two brontos and as much food and water as we can manage,” Bhelen nodded, “you have my thanks. Seek her out in Caridin’s Cross. I will try to delay the vote until you return.”

They left the Royal Palace and both he and Kallian let out a sigh in unison.

“The Deep Roads…” Kallian groaned, “well, I guess now I’ll be able to look for Ortan Thaig and Filda’s son…”

“You did marvelously, Alistair,” Wynne said patting him on the back.

“Yeah, good job, Ali-butt,” Kallian snapped her fingers into a thumbs up.

“By the way,” he asked, “when did you take part in the Provings?”

“Earlier today…” Kallian admitted sheepishly looking to the side.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I was asked,” Kallian shrugged, “the Proving Master asked me if I wanted to take part in it. So I did, nya.”

“We were simply asking around for information on the Carta,” Zevran added, “when the Proving Master, entranced by her beauty, decided to ask if she’d take part in the matches.”

“Actually, he was attracted to the title,” Kallian corrected, “now, I’m going to make sure I have enough herbs and other such reagents for what’s probably a three to four week trip into the Deep Roads… and also stare wistfully at the sky…”

“That’s a good idea,” he replied, “I think I’ll do the same… stare wistfully at the sky, I mean, not the reagents… I don’t want to mess up your powders again.”

“DAMN STRAIGHT YOU DON’T!” Kallian snarled prompting him to remember when he’d accidentally spilled a good portion of them.

He was certain that he was going to die that day.


	47. How the Drunkard Met the Cat Who Ventured Into the Deep Roads

_Heaven and Earth are everlasting_  
_The reason Heaven and Earth can last forever_  
_Is that they do not exist for themselves_  
_Thus they can last forever_  
_Therefore the sages:_  
_Place themselves last but end up in front_  
_Are outside of themselves and yet survive_  
_Is it not due to their selflessness?_  
_That is how they can achieve their own goals_

They stayed at the tavern that was near the entrance of Orzammar, partially so that they could see the sky, and also so that they could stay away from the Harrowmont supporters that wanted them dead. One of the reasons they were spending the night in the tavern, however, was also because this would likely be the last time they’d be able to sleep in a nice bed, as well as have a proper bath.

So, now she was sitting on the roof of the tavern staring wistfully at the sky.

“We may not be done with gaining the assistance of the Dwarves yet,” Zevran said sitting next to her, “but I think we are both in need of this.”

“We should pack an entire crate of booze,” she commented taking the bottle of Antivan Brandy, “like… all of the liquor we have and can get our hands on.”

“Considering the fact that we’re outside Orzammar,” Zevran chuckled, “I think we might end up with more alcohol than we can drink.”

“True… the more alcohol we drink, the more water we’ll need to drink,” she sighed, “and water will likely be a precious resource… though, if we get desperate, we can have either Wynne or Morrigan cast frost spells and use the melted ice.”

“I am not so certain that I would like to drink Fade water,” Zevran replied.

“We can use for hygienic purposes,” she replied, “since baths will likely be a no-go.”

“Ahhh… good idea,” Zevran hummed appreciatively, “we should stock up on lyrium potions as well then.”

“Already done… and I already have a few lyrium potion recipes,” she replied, “so I also packed as much lyrium dust as I possibly could, safely, of course.”

“Ah, yes… you have been helping our dear mages with their lyrium potion supplies lately,” Zevran replied.

“Argghhhh…” she groaned, “why did I have to be in a place at a time…?”

“Ah… in regards to being conscripted into the Wardens?”

“Yeah.”

“You… lied to Alistair, yes?”

“Yep. I think they’re stupid… the Grey Wardens, I mean… did you know that some of their fucking secrets are _detrimental to their own cause?_ ”

“Are they really?”

“Yeah… for instance, no one told Alistair _anything_ about being a Warden… and for some reason, they won’t tell people how they know a Blight is a Blight… some of their secrets _aren’t even really worth keeping secret_.”

“Such as?”

“The Joining… you drink some weird Darkspawn blood mixture, and then you either live or die… Why is that something worth keeping secret? I don’t get it… Sure, some people might not join because of that, but there _are_ still people who would take that risk and join anyway… for the glory of mankind or some shit.”

“…You really do hate being a Warden, I see.”

“But let’s keep it a secret,” she sighed, “they clearly did right-ish by Alistair, and I don’t want to ruin that for him.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“You’re still going to call me your ‘dear Warden’, aren’t you?”

“Well… would you rather I not?”

“No, it’s fine… as long as I’m not referred to as ‘broad’, ‘whore’, ‘it’, with the exception of Shale, or anything like that, I don’t care what people call me.”

“Ahh… so then you would not like being called these things in bed, as well then, yes?”

“…Considering that everyone else who dared call me such is currently dead, probably, yes.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“I’m really not looking forward to spending the next month or so underground,” she sighed, “cats don’t belong underground.”

“You are not a literal cat, my dear Warden.”

“I might as well be if I were a mage, I’d cease being an Elf, and just live as a cat.”

“Then I am rather glad that you are not a mage… as I am also not a mage and therefore cannot turn into a cat, as you would be able to… Though I do have fond memories of you as a cat.”

She felt her face burn with embarrassment.

“Forget that happened!” she demanded.

“Forget the feeling of your body under mine? Pinned beneath me and completely at my mercy?” Zevran asked and it felt like her face was on fire, “begging to be ravished?”

“I was most certainly not that last one.”

“Ah… yes, that one was just a dream I had.”

“Wah! Don’t tell me about your lewd dreams!”

“You did tell me that I was free to look and think what I want, my dear Warden.”

“Nowhere in that statement did I ever mention that I wanted to hear about what you’re doing to me in your head.”

“Shame, really… I think you would enjoy the many techniques I have used to pleasure you.”

At some point, he’d begun rolling his ‘r’s extra hard.

Which meant that she needed to make a quick get-away.

“Okay, thank you for the brandy, but I’m done here,” she said standing up and brushing herself off, “I don’t want to listen to you telling me what you want to do to me.”

And with that, she fled.

Waking up from a dream of the Archdemon seemed like a very ominous beginning to their journey into the Deep Roads. At least it was better than dealing with the aftermath of Zevran telling her what he wanted to do with her.

Come to think of it… has she ever…? In her past life? She didn’t remember, though it was probably a no… considering how busy she was derping around at her own pace. Also, because she didn’t remember it, and she remembered most of what she’d learned in that life. It honestly wouldn’t surprise her, in either lifetime, she’d never really been the type to just sleep with people… She, herself, had just never felt enough of an emotional connection to someone.

And in this lifetime? It was best not to think about.

They moved to the entrance of the Deep Roads, Vartag himself seemed to be overseeing things, likely to reduce the risk of Harrowmont tampering with their supplies.

“Stranger! Have you seen a Grey Warden hereabouts?” a Dwarf, Oghren, if memory served correct, asked as she pet the bronto that she was in the middle of naming ‘Brontosaurus Rex’, “I heard tell that he… or was that she—you understand, this was several flagons ago— was setting out to search for Branka on the Prince’s own orders.”

“What does this Grey Warden look like?” she asked.

“Stout and muscular, fair of face, but with a strong jaw and a bold nose, surrounded by a great glowing nimbus,” Oghren replied, “if she’s a woman, she might be more slight, but her eyes will shine with the light of purity and her large but chaste bosom will heave magnificently… I’ve been looking for hours, but I haven’t seen anyone who looks like that… very frustrating.”

She glanced at her chest, which was currently bound so tightly that she might as well have been completely flat-chested.

Also, the light of purity? More like the light of mischievousness.

“None of the Grey Wardens I know look like that,” she replied, “do you, Alistair?”

“’Fraid not,” Alistair replied.

“Seriously? You’re the Wardens? I mean, _the_ Grey Wardens?” Oghren laughed, “well, if you’re the best they’ve got, then standards must have fallen way down.”

“Well, in my case they _were_ scraping at the bottom of the barrel,” she shrugged.

“At least you _have_ skill,” Morrigan replied echoing what she had said at Soldier’s Peak, “unlike a certain Templar.”

“Hey!” Alistair shouted.

“I suppose that would account for two Elves and a group of Humans being down here,” Oghren replied, “say… could I ask you a favor?”

“Didn’t I see you bickering with someone in the Diamond Quarter yesterday?” she asked.

“Aye, that blowhard Lolinar… and if you asked him, all he probably said is: ‘Oh, that Oghren, he pisses ale and kills little boys who look at him wrong.’,” Oghren replied, “and that’s mostly true, but the part they never say is how I’m the only one still trying to save our only Paragon… and if you’re looking for Branka, I’m the only one who knows what she was looking for, which might be pretty sodding helpful in finding her.”

“Why haven’t you gone after her yourself?” Alistair asked.

“Believe me, I have… but where she was going, it’s a lost thaig. No one’s seen it in centuries. I searched as far as I could, but… it would take teams of warriors searching weeks on end to cover enough ground to hope to find it,” Oghren answered, “which, I assume, is exactly what Bhelen’s scouts have done. And they gave the fruits of their labor to you… but they haven’t found Branka, herself, and that means whatever they’ve got, it’s not enough if you don’t know what she was looking for. If we pool our knowledge, we stand a chance of finding Branka. Otherwise, good sodding luck.”

“More crazy?” Alistair asked, “I thought we were full up.”

“Isn’t that what you said when we met Leli?” she asked, “back when I was still trying to pass myself off as an Elven servant?”

“Perfect, what’s one more?” Oghren asked, “Branka was a brilliant girl, but half the time she’d add two and two and make it fifty. You want to find her, you need someone who knows how she thinks.”

“My Grey Warden,” Zevran replied, “is also a brilliant _woman_ who is quite good at finding things, even with only vague hints to go by… not only that but she can take straw and turn it into gold. She is also quite the rogue, and a brilliant strategist and tactician.”

That… emphasis on woman…

Not only that, but the ‘r’s.

It sounded like he was getting into a fight that basically amounted to ‘my wife is better than yours’.

“Leli,” she whispered, “is it me or does it sound like he’s trying to brag about his wife?”

“I think… it’s because he is,” Leliana whispered back.

“Since when were we in that kind of relationship?” she asked continuing to whisper.

“I still find it hard to believe that you are not,” Leliana replied.

“What makes you think you can trust _me?_ ” she asked Oghren abandoning the conversation topic.

“Ach! I’m not some sodding Elf maiden who sits around and waits for a passing hero to solve my problems,” Oghren huffed, “no offense.”

“Some taken,” she replied remembering her failed wedding, being thrown in a dungeon, fighting her way out, Nelaros dying whilst trying to save her.

“I’m a bloody warrior! I mean to get her back, and you wouldn’t be down here if you weren’t trying for the same thing,” Oghren continued, “Branka was looking for the Anvil of the Void. Might have been the most important invention in Orzammar’s history. The smith Caridin built it, and with it, Orzammar had a hundred years of peace, while it was protected by the golems forged on the Anvil… As far as anyone knows, the Anvil was built in the old Ortan Thaig. Branka planned to start looking there, if she could ever find it… All she knew was that it was past Caridin’s Cross. No one’s seen that thaig for five hundred years.”

Ortan Thaig? Orta wanted her to go there.

“Why do you care so much about this Branka?” Zevran asked.

“Why? We were sodding _married_ until she left me and took our whole house into the Deep Roads on her mad quest for the Anvil,” Oghren replied, “it was a stupid move. If I’d been with her, she’d have made it back years ago. But I forgive her.”

“Bhelen gave me a map,” she said holding up the map, “I can get us to Caridin’s Cross.”

“If we’re going, let’s get moving,” Oghren replied, “Branka’s not going to sodding find herself.”

“Well, you kind of interrupted our plans,” she replied picking up one of the crates she had been trying to secure onto the cart Brontosaurus Rex would be pulling before getting distracted, “so give me like five minutes… yeesh.”

She secured the crate filled with reagents, and then one containing extra throwing daggers, and a pack of extra clothes, some scarves in case of things with too many parts, cooking utensils, and miscellaneous cloths. Then began checking the provisions provided to them. Once she was satisfied with both Brontosaurus Rex and Brhinoceros, she stepped back and nodded.

“Okay, I think we’re good,” she said snapping her fingers into a thumbs up.

***

It was as if she’d been blessed with another glimpse of the future: Zevran bragging about Kallian as if she were his wife. And she had no doubt he would dote on her, he already does. He gave Kallian her space and only kept her from doing things that were probably more dangerous than she’d thought. Kallian knew the dangers of the world, and her confidence in her own abilities certainly weren’t misplaced, but it was still hard to not see her as someone who needed to be protected.

Her disarming smiles and compassion did much to mask just how dangerous she truly was.

“Brontosaurus Rex, here, breakfast,” Kallian cooed about a day into the Deep Roads, “and here, breakfast for you too, Brhinoceros…”

“Brontosaurus Rex is an adorable name!” she said, “so is Brhinoceros!”

“What were you going to name Diana?” Wynne asked.

“Castella,” Kallian answered.

“After… the cake…?” Alistair asked.

“Yeah,” Kallian nodded, “ahh… now I want to eat Castella…”

“Hello, my stocky little friend!” Zevran said cheerfully when he spotted Oghren.

“Huh,” Oghren replied, “you got small breasts for a gal…or do all Elves just have small breasts?”

Kallian glanced down at her chest with a sigh.

“Ah,” Zevran replied, “this is where we begin the typical Dwarven/Elven rivalry, is it?”

“Naaaahhh,” Oghren replied.

“I’ve always been a little jealous of both Dwarven and Human women,” Kallian commented, “for a long time, I really wanted a soft curvy body too… actually, I still do, but I’ve given up on that dream.”

“How come?” she asked.

“Because I spent two fucking years trying to put some fat on my body,” Kallian grumbled, “and now it’s all gone… in fact, it’s been gone for months now.”

“From what I’ve seen of it,” Zevran grinned lasciviously, “your body is still very desirable.”

“That’s nice,” Kallian replied dismissively, “but it still doesn’t match the aesthetic vision I had for myself.”

“Are you two together, or what?” Oghren asked.

“We are not together,” Kallian answered, “so it is the ‘or what’.”

“Why not?” Oghren asked.

“Congratulations on asking the question all of us have been wondering for the past who knows how long,” Alistair commented dryly.

“Because reasons,” Kallian replied waving a sleeve around before climbing into an empty crate on one of the carts and moving the lid back into place, effectively running away from the conversation.

She knew that she wasn’t the only one wishing that Kallian would stop holding herself back…

Everyone did.

***

She was beginning to lose track of time, in that, because there was no sun, she had no idea how long they’d been traveling. The world had become suffocating walls and ceilings of stone, and stale air. There were no trees, no high places for her to climb up to, no stars for her to gaze at, and running off on her own was definitely not a good idea, considering the sheer amount of danger in these tunnels. She liked houses, and she liked buildings, but she did not like being confined into them.

She missed the sky.

Also baths, she missed those like crazy… all she could do for her hygiene was wipe her body down with a damp towel. It kept her skin from feeling completely disgusting, but she’d much rather have a long soak in a nice warm bath.

All in all, she was feeling miserable.

Not only did she feel unclean, and couldn’t see the sky… but she was tired as fuck because her Darkspawn sensor was driving her insane.

Well, at least there weren’t any things with too many parts.

Yet.

She missed Hawai’i.

There was a way for her to feel less miserable, but that method involved her draping herself over a certain someone who didn’t exist and basking in the feeling of how comfortable it was being near him.

“My dear Warden,” Zevran said, “you look like a flower about to wilt.”

“Well, that’s a pretty accurate description of how I’m currently feeling,” she replied, “considering that I don’t know how long we’ve been down here, and also that I desperately want a bath… and also to not feel Darkspawn every _two fucking hours because fuck the Deep Roads.”_

“Ahh… yes,” Zevran replied, “you did mention that it made you feel… how did you put it? ‘Barfy and weird’?”

“Yep,” she nodded.

“I’m still not feeling barfy,” Alistair said, “but I hate it too.”

“Well, at least we should be at Caridin’s Cross sometime soon,” she sighed, “like in another day or so.”

“So, I wonder,” Zevran said turning to Morrigan, “do you intend to take your Mother’s place, now?”

“Take her place?” Morrigan asked, “what do you mean?”

“As the new Witch of the Wild… That was her title, no?” Zevran replied, “when one slays the queen, it’s assumed they’ll take her throne.”

“Considering the throne is a small shack in the middle of a cold wilderness,” Morrigan replied, “I think I may just pass.”

“And why would you lie to me, I wonder?” Zevran asked.

“Ah, is this the part where you hint at some subtle plot of mine?” Morrigan asked, “because you are so very perceptive?”

“So you didn’t know what your Mother planned until you read it in that book,” Zevran recounted, “that’s what you said.”

“That is correct,” Morrigan replied.

“I admire you,” Zevran said appreciatively, “you are a wicked, wicked woman.”

“And you are a fool who spends far too much time on his hair,” Morrigan scoffed.

…She spent more time on her hair that he did, considering her complicated braided bun.

Sometimes, she was just so lazy she went to sleep with it in the bun, and old school Japanese style slept with a block of wood under her neck… She _could_ completely change her hairstyle… but it was her way of remembering what she’d lost, what her life could have been.

A reminder of the life she had wanted, and been so close to having.

***

His Warden was definitely not cut out to be a Grey Warden, in that, she was incredibly miserable in the Deep Roads, and given that Grey Wardens often journeyed into the Deep Roads… She was a poor fit for the job, which honestly, was to be expected, considering his revelations on how she truly felt about being a Warden. She had marvelously lied to Alistair, about not hating the fact that she was a Warden when she did.

He knew she did. 

He knew she hated it with every fiber of her being.

She’d told him so, and that she thought they were stupid.

Though, she did mention that she’d make a poor Crow, considering that she asks questions and would never be a ‘yes man’ who only knows how to follow orders, and clearly, the Wardens were an organization of people who did not question things. And his Warden observed and saw straight into the truth of a matter.

She could not be fooled or pacified with lies, she’s even said it herself many times: she can tell when people are trying to use her. Whether she plays along or not is her choice.

Her intelligence was her greatest weapon, and she knew it and used it as such.

The first target the Crows sent her after was in-line with her interests… as for the last two… it was likely she knew she had a reason for accepting them, but then forgot what that reason was.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP AND FUCK OFF!” Kallian roared shooting upright in her bedroll before groggily looking around confused.

She had a tendency to try to fall asleep well before the rest of them so that she could wake up in time to take the last watch since they needed one of their Wardens awake at all times.

“…Did you have a dream about the Archdemon?” Alistair asked.

“Yeah… fucker kept roaring,” Kallian grumbled.

“So you told it to shut up and fuck off?” Alistair asked.

“Clearly,” Kallian replied flatly before letting out a long sigh, “ahhh… I’m going back to sleep.”

He wondered if there were any other Wardens who would yell at the Archdemon and tell it to ‘fuck off’ after it disturbed their slumber. Her temper had been a little short ever since they entered the Deep Roads, though, he didn’t blame her. If he kept being bothered every so often by the nauseating feeling of sensing Darkspawn he’d probably be short-tempered as well.

Luckily, for everyone else, Alistair wasn’t nearly as miserable, and his Warden had taught the boy well.

Still, what could he do to cheer her up? The things she enjoyed were… not easily acquired where they were. Not only that, but he didn’t think that there was a way to keep her from sensing Darkspawn and dreaming of the Archdemon, and she rejected any intimate gestures from him.

***

About a week and a half into their travels into the Deep Roads, they finally reached Caridin’s Cross.

One of the Wardens was handling the situation better than the other, and he wasn’t sure which one of the two was actually in charge.

He was also almost killed for peeking into the alcohol crate belonging to the Elves… who knew that Elves would be so touchy about their booze?

“Caridin’s Cross!” he exclaimed, “I can’t believe Bhelen actually tracked this place down… This used to be one of the biggest crossroads in the old empire. You could get anywhere from here. Including Ortan Thaig.”

“What’s so important about Ortan Thaig?” Kallian asked.

“It’s the home of Caridin, the Paragon who made the Anvil, he was an Ortan before he founded his own house, and even then, he spent most of his time in their thaig,” he answered, “Branka figured it was the best guess for where the Anvil was located.”

“Do you know anything else about the Anvil?” Kallian asked.

“No one but Caridin ever really knew more than that it had some kind of Stone-blessed power,” he explained, “every golem who ever ranged across the empire was hammered on the steel of that Anvil, but no one ever knew exactly how they were made… But Branka was sure _she_ could find out.”

“Shale are you excited?” Kallian asked, “we’re gonna find out how you were born… in a manner of speaking.”

“Well… I won’t say that it hasn’t piqued my interest,” Shale replied.

“See any sign of Branka, yet?” Alistair asked.

“Not a one, but trust me, we will once we’re on the path to the old Ortan Thaig,” he replied, “she was going to Caridin’s home.”

“So, you know where to go from here?” Kallian asked.

“Aye… Branka dug up some maps of the ancient empire,” he nodded, “it’s a little tough to tell with so much of it collapsed now, but near as I can figure we’re on the right path to Ortan Thaig.”

“Well, let’s get going then,” Kallian nodded, “the sooner we get to her the sooner we can leave.”

“Why did you become a bleedin’ Warden if you can’t handle the Deep Roads?” he asked.

Kallian was a solid fighter, damn near invincible… but the woman also didn’t even know how to wear armor.

What were they thinking, making her a Warden?

She seemed more suited to being a bloody servant, and from what he knew of the woman, she’d have preferred being a servant to being a Warden.

“Because I crossed paths with someone,” Kallian replied, “who I deemed needed to die.”

“Isn’t that everyone who died because of your subtle machinations?” Alistair asked.

“…Yes,” Kallian replied looking to the side, “but this fucker was on a whole ‘nother level.”

“You won’t tell us about him, will you?” Alistair asked.

“Yep,” Kallian snapped her fingers into a thumbs up.

“So, Sten, lost your weapon, did you?” he asked.

“What of it?” Sten asked in return.

“Swinging an empty scabbard, then?” he continued.

“…”

“Your pike was purloined?”

“‘Purloined’?” Sten asked, “did you have to look that one up?”

“The Elf gave me that one,” he laughed, “you have to admit, it’s good.”

“I’m going to assume, that by Elf,” Sten replied, “you don’t mean Kallian.”

“Indeed!” Zevran said cheerfully, “it was me!”

“I don’t have the emotional capacity to enjoy words more complicated than ‘fuck’, ‘this’, and ‘place’, at the moment,” Kallian replied.

“You enjoy words?” Sten asked.

“Oh, yeah, some words are incredibly fun to say,” Kallian replied, “language is a beautiful thing.”

***

They hadn’t even been in Caridin’s Cross for five minutes before they got ambushed.

And not by Darkspawn, or deepstalkers… but by mercenaries.

“Well… look what we have here,” a Mercenary said blocking their path, “some of Bhelen’s new toadies… let’s show ‘em who’s king!”

She was getting reaaaaal tired of this shit.

They followed Oghren’s directions through Caridin’s Cross, and honestly, part of her was curious as to why she was completely fine with following a drunkard around.

Though, at the moment she gave zero fucks because fucking Darkspawn were fucking everywhere and she was honestly surprised she hasn’t actually vomited yet. 

Plus, Dwarves have… what did they call it? Stone-Sense?

Yeah, that.

She didn’t have that.

“This is the right way out,” Oghren announced, “Ortan Thaig… it won’t be long now.”

“See, my dear Warden?” Zevran said, “we’re getting closer.”

“Huzzaaah,” she cheered monotonously, “if you expect my mood to lift before we see daylight again, you’ll be sorely disappointed.”

The man has been doing his absolute best to cheer her up, and it was making her feel bad because unless he could bring the sky into the Deep Roads, there was nothing he could do for her.

To be completely honest, she hated that he would probably be willing to do anything for her.

“Is she usually like this?” Oghren asked.

“No… not by a long shot,” Alistair sighed, “she’s normally well-mannered, kind, patient, and understanding.”

“Are you sure she wasn’t faking it?” Oghren asked.

“Definitely,” Leliana nodded.

“Putting on that kind of act would be a waste of time and energy,” she stated, “not to mention tiring… I don’t have that kind of patience for such convoluted schemes.”

“You would do terribly in Dwarven politics,” Oghren replied.

“I know, and I thank the sweet merciful heavens above that I was not born a Dwarf,” she replied waving a sleeve around.

“Would you have rather been born Human?” Alistair asked.

“Hell no,” she replied, “I’m quite happy as an Elf… being born Human would have made getting away with things too easy… which would have made it really easy for me to get carried away… Being an Elf helps keep me in check. Not only that, but I wouldn’t be near as knowledgeable about the social differences between us, and by extension, neither would you, mya.”

“True,” Leliana nodded.

They continued along the Deep Roads, and according to Oghren, they should be there soon.

“By the tits of my Ancestors… Ortan Thaig, I never thought I’d see this place in the flesh,” Oghren said in shock looking around, “I can see Branka all over this place… she always took chips from the walls at regular intervals when she was in a new tunnel— check their composition… If she was still here, though, she’d have sentries out by now.”

“What do you know about these ruins?” she asked.

“This was Caridin’s home Thaig… he was an Ortan before he got raised to Paragon, even stayed here when he could have had his own house,” Oghren answered, “I guess he didn’t want to move his people to Bownammar.”

“Bownammar?” Leliana asked.

“The City of the Dead… Caridin built it to honor the Legion of the Dead, but it was more like a sodding mausoleum than anything,” Oghren explained, “of course, that was all before he built the Anvil. After that, he was the city’s pet genius until he angered the king and fell into disfavor.”

“So… there was a city here?” she asked tilting her head to the side.

“No, no, there was a _thaig_ here, the Ortan Thaig. Bownammar is north and west of here, but that’s not important… or at least, I hope it isn’t,” Oghren replied, “the City of the Dead is known as the Dead Trenches since the Darkspawn conquered it. Much of the Legion was destroyed when the fortress fell.”

Whoa… all these details were getting mixed up in her head… what was the difference between a thaig and a city? Though, this probably wasn’t the time to ask for a cultural lesson.

Or maybe thaigs were basically like neighborhoods?

“And you have no idea where the Anvil is?” Alistair asked.

“No one does… at the time, Ortan Thaig was almost part of the main city, so no one bothered to mark where the Anvil was stored,” Oghren replied, “now, it’s impossible to know if it’s been moved or even destroyed… but trust me: if we find it, we find Branka.”

“Well… let’s get going then,” she sighed.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Oghren nodded.

Wait a minute… were they on _another_ quest for the Holy Grail? How many fucking Holy Grails was she supposed to find?!

This is ridiculous!

Bhelen needed them to find Branka, and to find Branka they needed to find the Holy Grail… She was _not_ getting Bhelen a sword named Excalibur.

Even if it would be the Sword in the Stone… since Orzammar was underground.

Nope.

Only one Excalibur, and that Excalibur was going to be Alistair’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Tao Te Ching Chapter Seven_


	48. How the Cat and Her Companions Found the Dead Trenches

She hoped that the others were doing alright in Orzammar, from what she’s heard, they’re also on the brink of Civil War… She’s heard stories about Orzammar politics, and she wasn’t sure how prepared they were for dealing with it…

Kallian would also more than likely make Alistair handle it, something that she both approved of and hoped for. It would be a good test of his abilities before the Landsmeet, and he’d need the experience even beyond that. He’ll have both her, Kallian, Arl Eamon, and Bann Teagan among others at his side to help him, but he also needed to be able to stand on his own. Him getting the assistance of the Dwarves would do wonders for his own confidence as well.

And kings needed to be confident, especially when dealing with foreign dignitaries.

She wished she could be with them, but there were still things that needed to be taken care of before the Landsmeet, and likely, at this point, she wouldn’t be able to get into Orzammar, considering how the closed off the city was. There was also the chance that they’d miss each other, and have made the trip there only to discover that they were already on their way back to Redcliffe…

All she could do now was wait.

Something that peeved her a little, she could handle herself in a fight, but she was stuck here waiting like some damsel in distress.

With a sigh, she took a moment to reflect on her life.

Her entire family had been wiped out by Howe… and Fergus had likely died during the events of Ostagar unless Howe managed to assassinate him before he reached there… Right now, she should be looking after their Teyrnir with her Mother, joking around with her Sister-in-Law, and helping her raise her nephew…

She clenched her hands as rage blossomed in her chest anew, as she remembered barely escaping her own castle, as she remembered watching servants get cut down trying to help her escape.

Loghain clearly didn’t care that Howe had betrayed the Cousland’s… and she was glad that they were both currently the enemy of the greatest ally she could have ever possibly hoped to find.

Her trump card, her ultimate trump card…

Not just _her_ trump card, but Ferelden’s trump card against the Loghain and the Blight.

It wasn’t as if the time she’d spent since losing Highever had been completely full of misery… She’d met Alistair, and when she’d heard that he was a Theirin, part of her had only wanted to get close to him, to use him against Loghain and Howe. A weapon to make everyone who’d betrayed the Cousland’s feel her wrath…

But he was sweet and sincere, and she couldn’t fathom using him like that. Not only that, but he too had lost a group of people he’d seen as family. Sure, he still had Arl Eamon, but he’d lost Duncan, the father-figure he’d never had, and the rest of the Wardens who were the only family he’d ever known. He had gained a sister in Kallian, yes, but right after the Battle of Ostagar, he hadn’t seen her like that, they were still basically strangers whose interests happened to align.

She knew because she was the same.

And Kallian, who she saw as a sister…

Kind, considerate, compassionate, and wise Kallian who always knew what to say and when to say it.

When she’d first seen her, she’d understood… She wasn’t the only one who’d been through hell. Eyes pleading her to not speak of her engagement… she still didn’t know what had happened and didn’t want to bring it up. No one knew much behind her recruitment, other than that she had been scouted because of her Mother, and not because Duncan had seen her skill and was impressed by it.

Something had clearly gone wrong with her engagement since Alistair had mentioned that Kallian had said that her heart had been broken, but nothing beyond that.

And she was still pushing Zevran away, for reasons unknown.

***

Spiders were fighting Darkspawn, and a brief glance to the left told him all he needed to know about how his fellow Warden was feeling.

She looked absolutely dead inside.

“I hate literally _everything_ about what’s happening right now,” Kallian sighed as they waited for the Darkspawn and spiders to kill each other, “I am in _agony_.”

Diana gave a sad whine.

“Just think: when you become Teyrna,” he commented, “you’ll never have to return to the Deep Roads.”

“Whoop-de-fucking-doo, that just makes me feel sooooooooo much better,” Kallian snapped then covered her face with a sigh, “sorry… you didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s fine… clearly, you got the short end of the stick with the Joining,” he replied patting her on the back, “considering sensing Darkspawn makes you feel sick.”

“That doesn’t make it any better,” Kallian sighed again, “I am both glad and spiteful that you don’t feel barfy… Glad because you can handle decision making while I attempt to not vomit my brains out, and spiteful because I feel so sick and miserable that I want to go back to Orzammar and throw someone in the pit of lava just so that I can hear them scream as they burn to death.”

“The Superior Warden has such wonderful ideas,” Shale commented.

“That’s… a little extreme, don’t you think?” he asked.

“Oh, sweetie… you don’t even know the amount of cruelty I’m capable of,” Kallian cooed, “and let’s hope it stays that way.”

Kallian’s cruelty always comes with a voice sweet as candy, and a smile that said that she was very much going to enjoy what was to come… He didn’t want to imagine what it’d be like being on the receiving end of it… Sometimes she used her intimidation against them, but the intimidation she used against them was always far softer than the one she used against others…

The one she used against others was an intensity that immediately unnerved the ones she faced and struck fear into their hearts…

It was the look of a deadly beast about to go in for the kill.

“Hey, Zevran,” he commented as they continued, “what’s it like being on the receiving end of her actual intimidation?”

“Cold eyes, and a voice that sends shivers down your spine,” Zevran recounted, “you either break immediately or are, at the very least, cautious… it is a fear that cannot be ignored… Even among the Crows, not many would be able to fully stand against it without being weary.”

“But when it’s used against your enemies,” Leliana added, “you can’t help but feel like there’s an army behind you… it is an intensity that bolsters her allies and fills your enemies with fear.”

They heard someone scream and Kallian was already running.

“There’s nothing for you here!” a Dwarf taken by the taint shouted, “it’s mine! I’ve claimed it!”

A ghoul.

“Claimed it?” Kallian asked soothingly, “are you part of the clan who lived here?”

“The clan…? No. But it’s still mine!” Ruck replied, “Ruck’s been here for years now, and no shiny surfacer will take him away!”

“Bah! He’s a bloody scavenger,” Oghren huffed, “good as sodding gone.”

“Begone, you!” Ruck glowered, “you’ll bring the dark ones back, you will! They’ll crunch your bones!”

“Word has it you can only survive down here by eating the Darkspawn dead,” Oghren explained.

“Really?” Kallian balked, “why would they do that?”

“It brings the Taint,” Oghren explained, “turns their brains to sewage, but it hides them from the Darkspawn.”

“Huh… interesting,” Kallian replied closing her eyes in thought, “masks them, but turns Grey Wardens into catnip… I guess the preparation really does make the difference.”

“Well, if you need to dispose of Darkspawn bodies after the Blight,” Morrigan commented.

“Oh, that is a horrible, horrible suggestion,” he cringed.

“Really?” Morrigan asked, “it might solve that world hunger problem you are always fretting about.”

Suddenly, Kallian seemed to be on high alert.

“Go away! Stop talking, stop! No more noise!” Ruck shouted, “it’s my claim, not yours! Crunch your bones!”

Spiders.

They die quickly in Kallian’s presence.

“We need to go after him,” Kallian said moving to follow the Dwarven ghoul.

“Why?” Oghren asked.

“A Mother desperately wishes for news of her son,” Kallian answered.

He wasn’t sure if this was the kind of news that a Mother would want but followed anyway.

“Go away!” Ruck glowered, “this is mine! Only I gets to plunder its riches!”

“I just want to talk,” Kallian replied soothingly.

“No!” Ruck glared, “no talking! You leave my territory!”

“Is this Branka’s campsite?” Oghren asked bluntly.

“It’s mine! I’m the one who found it,” Ruck glared, “I drove out the crawlers. Now it’s mine!”

“I’m not here to steal anything,” Kallian replied keeping her voice calm and gentle, “I promise.”

“Pretty lady… pretty eyes, pretty hair… smells like the steam of burning water, blue as the deepest rock,” Ruck replied calming down, “so… the pretty lady won’t take anything from Ruck? You won’t take Ruck’s shiny worms and pretty rocks.”

He’d always been awe of Kallian’s ability to soothe people and calm them down.

_“Oh, sweetie… you don’t even know the amount of cruelty I’m capable of… and let’s hope it stays that way.”_

That was something he should probably never forget.

“I just want to talk,” Kallian replied, “I won’t take anything.”

“Oh, Ruck not mind that,” Ruck replied, “maybe…”

“My name is Kallian,” Kallian replied, “so your name is Ruck?”

“Ruck not pretty name, not pretty like lady,” Ruck replied, “Ruck is small and ugly and twisted.”

“I think I met your Mother,” Kallian said, “is her name Filda?”

“N—n—n— no! No Filda. No Mother. No warm blanket and stew and pillow and soft words!” Ruck replied loudly, “Ruck doesn’t deserve good memories. No, no, no, no!”

“Your Mother misses you,” Kallian replied, voice still soft and gentle, “she asked me to find you.”

“She—she did not know, not what I did… I was very, very, very, very angry and then someone was dead… They wanted to send Ruck to the mines. If I went to the mines, sh—she would know. Everyone would know. So I came here, instead… Once you eat… once you takes in the darkness… you not miss the light so much. You know, do you not? Ruck sees, yes… He sees the darkness inside you.”

Kallian very much still misses the sky…

Wait, did he tell her about the Grey Warden lifespan?

***

The Dwarf, Ruck… seeing him pained him… Throughout the conversation happening between him and his Warden, he could see that his mind was gone.

“You have to tell your Mother you’re alive,” Kallian replied.

“No, no, no! She cannot… she remembers a boy, a little boy, with bright eyes and a hammer and she _can not see this!_ swear-promise-vow you won’t tell!”

“Would you rather she think you dead?” Kallian asked.

“Yes! Yes… t—tell the Mother Ruck is dead. He’s dead and his bones are rotting in the crawlers’ webs and she should never look again.”

“Then, I will tell her you died bravely,” Kallian replied softly.

“Pretty lady is like Mother, yes… too good, too pretty for the darkness…”

“I agree,” he nodded earning him a roll of the eyes, courtesy of his Warden.

“Can I ask you some other questions?” Kallian asked.

“I will answer your questions, pretty lady… anything you wish.”

“Did you find anything unusual at this camp?”

“Bits of things, but only bits… the crawlers took almost everything… they take things of steel and things of paper. They takes the shinies and the words.”

“Paper and words? That sounds like someone was taking notes,” Oghren said speaking up, “do you think Branka camped here?”

“They bring to the great nest, the nest they makes for the eggs… they puts the shinies inside, they do.”

He could see his Warden shudder as she listened him speak of the nest of spiders… He could only hope they never stumbled across it, considering her reaction to seeing spiders and Darkspawn kill each other.

“…When did you arrive here?”

“Too long ago. I must think… five years? Six? Ruck no longer remembers the smells and sights of the city.”

“That’s such a long time!” Kallian gasped, “you poor thing!”

“The pretty lady understands… she knows how Ruck feels, she does.”

“How did you survive here?”

“When the dark ones were here, I kept to the shadows… they don’t look in the shadows, not if you’re quiet. Not if you eat their flesh… then the dark ones think you’re one of them. They leave you alone. But now they’re gone.”

“Do you know where the ‘dark ones’ went?”

“I thinks they went south, pretty lady. Far, far to the south. That is where the dark master calls them with his beautiful voice. So much joy when he awoke!”

“Mmm… he’s talking about the Archdemon, huh?” Oghren asked.

“After the dark master awoke, he called his children and they all went… I wanted to go, too, and gaze upon his beauty…”

“Where is the dark master now? Do you know?”

“He stopped calling. I wish I could go see him, but Ruck… no, no, Ruck— Ruck is a coward.”

“I see… in any case, thank you, Ruck,” Kallian said, “we should move on.”

“I… am not what one would call a sympathetic man, but seeing him like this pains me,” he said speaking up, “we should at least put him out of his misery.”

“Is not so bad… the dark and the burning keeps Ruck warm… warm like Mother’s arms—”

“His mind is gone, and his body will soon follow,” he sighed, “I have seen victims of poisoning in better shape… surely you have as well, my dear Warden.”

“That’s… true,” Kallian sighed.

“I hate to say it,” he replied, “but leaving him alive is crueler than just killing him.”

“I won’t ask you to forgive me,” Kallian said unsheathing her weapons as she echoed the words she’d said to Connor, “but I’m sorry all the same.”

“Ahhhhhhh! The pretty lady is treacherous!” Ruck cried out, “don’t hurt Ruck, no!”

His Warden ended his life swiftly, with a pained expression.

“Sooo… Kalli,” Alistair sighed heavily, “there’s something I might have forgotten to tell you.”

“Yeah?” Kallian replied.

“Have I ever told you about the other physical changes after the Joining?” Alistair asked, “other than becoming a Grey Warden, and dreaming about the Archdemon, that is.”

“Nope.”

“Well… once a Grey Warden reaches a certain age,” Alistair replied, “the real nightmares come… and that’s how a Grey Warden knows their time has come.”

“’Their time has come’?” he asked in alarm, “what do you mean their time has come?”

“I fail to see how this is any of your business,” Alistair frowned, “but in addition to all the other wonderful things about being a Grey Warden: you don’t need to worry about dying from old age… you’ve got thirty years to live. Give or take… the Taint… it’s a death sentence. Ultimately, your body won’t be able to take it. When the time comes, most Grey Wardens go to Orzammar and die in battle, rather than… waiting. It’s tradition.”

Not only did he have to worry about losing her to herself… but now he had to worry about losing her to the Taint as well?!

“You didn’t tell me that, but I knew,” Kallian replied, “I figured it out at Soldier’s Peak.”

Soldier’s Peak… Avernus, the mage who practiced blood magic and managed to increase his lifespan… His Warden had asked if there was a way to separate diseased blood from healthy blood and wondered if it’d be possible to cure Wardens of the Taint…

“Wait… you’re not angry?” Alistair asked.

His Warden had no reason to be angry because she already knew that she was going to end herself after the Blight.

“Nope, why would I be?” Kallian asked, “I’m fairly certain that we’ve established that I’m good with the whole dying thing, as long as I can think ‘it’s a good day to die’… though today is definitely not a good day to die… I want to see the sky… I also don’t want my corpse to be eaten by things with too many parts… Death happens to everyone and everything eventually… it’s the way of the world, without death there can be no life, nya-nyon.”

“Right… that’s the kind of person you are,” Alistair sighed.

If anyone could figure out a cure for the Taint, it would be his Warden… all he needed to do was sway her path then.

***

Zevran was clearly upset about Warden lifespans, but that wasn’t important right now, because spiders weren’t the only things his fellow Warden was afraid of apparently… She was also afraid of ghosts.

Ghosts…

Not spirits… ghosts.

“Nooooooooooooooo!” Kallian screeched running away, “MORRIGAN! WYNNE! CAST A HEALING SPELL ON THEM OR SOMETHING!”

Kallian was running away screaming before she collapsed once the ghosts were gone.

“’Cast a healing spell on them’?” Wynne asked incredulously, “why on earth would I cast a healing spell on them.”

“I don’t know!” Kallian’s muffled voice came out, “because they’re dead and we wanted to make them less dead!?”

She’s abandoned all logic.

“I thought you get murderous when you are afraid,” Sten frowned.

“What am I supposed to do against a fucking ghost?!” Kallian replied, “THEY HAVE NO BODIES!”

Was she crying?

“Clearly, they can be dealt with,” Sten pointed out flatly.

“I hate… everything about the Deep Roads,” Kallian sniffed, “and to make it worse… I think we’re going to have to walk into the nest of things with too many parts.”

Yep, she was crying.

“Wild animal instincts?” he asked.

“Yeah… it’s telling me it’s straight ahead,” Kallian nodded before pointing.

He sighed heavily, before picking her up.

“What?” Kallian asked as he carried her to the cart pulled by their brontos, he placed her down took the lid off of a crate, picked her up again, and placed her inside, “I am entirely okay with this.”

“Don’t come out until we tell you to,” he replied.

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Kallian replied giving a cramped salute as he slid the lid back into place.

“…Kallian’s ability to be placated by being placed within a crate ‘tis most…” Morrigan said, “interesting… to say the least.”

“Wait! We’re in Ortan Thaig!” Kallian’s muffled voice came out, “Orta wanted me to see if there were any records!

“What am I to do with you, my dear Warden?” Zevran asked with a sigh letting her out of the crate.

“Nothing, preferably,” Kallian replied as she investigated the area, luckily managing to find a registry fairly quickly.

As she moved to re-enter the crate, Zevran bent down to whisper something to her, earning him look of confusion from Kallian as he slid the lid of the crate back into place.

“If only all women could be pacified by being placed inside of a crate,” Oghren commented.

“It’s because she’s a cat,” he replied.

“Grey Wardens… supposed peerless warriors, afraid of spiders, and ghosts,” Sten remarked, “and can be placated by being placed in crates.”

“Only Kallian, I’m sure,” Wynne replied.

And with Kallian back in the crate, they were now free to continue forwards.

To be completely honest, this felt wrong.

Placing an Elven woman in a crate to move her, just seemed… wrong.

It was fine when she put herself into the crate, but putting her into one on the other hand…

Ah, well, it was likely the only way to get her through this part of the Deep Roads.

***

If the suffocating Deep Roads had been good for anything ‘twas that she discovered that Kallian could indeed be placated by being stowed away in a crate…

How convenient.

“Kalli, it’s safe now,” Alistair called out, but there was no movement, “Kalli!”

Alistair sighed and moved to the crate and took the lid off, and they were greeted to the sight of Kallian covering her ears with her hands and a dead look on her face.

“Kalli, it’s okay now,” Alistair repeated.

“Huh… sorry,” Kallian replied jolting as she looked up at him from inside the crate, “I was busy imagining what it’d be like to get shipped off to a better place.”

“…Well alright then,” Alistair replied.

“You killed all the things with too many parts, right?” Kallian asked and then climbed out of the crate when Alistair nodded, “did you check this journal yet?”

“Not yet,” Oghren replied as Kallian began leafing through the pages.

“We found evidence today that the Anvil of the Void was not built in the Ortan Thaig… we will go south, to the Dead Trenches. The Anvil is somewhere beyond,” Kallian read aloud, “my soldiers tell me I am mad, that the Dead Trenches are crawling with Darkspawn, that we will surely die before we find the Anvil… if we find it… I leave this here in case they’re right. If I die in the Trenches, perhaps someone can yet walk past my corpse and retrieve the Anvil. For if it remains lost, so do we all… If I have not returned and Oghren yet lives, tell him… no, what I have to say should be for his ears alone. This is my farewell.”

“Branka was thinking about me! I knew she still cared! Old softy,” Oghren replied, “looks like the Dead Trenches is our next stop, then… They say the Darkspawn nest there, whole herds of ‘em. But if that’s where Branka went, then that’s where I’m going.”

“The Drunken Dwarf’s confidence that its wife still cares for it is surprising,” Shale scoffed, “for all it knows, it could just want to tell the Drunken Dwarf off.”

“Ach! You sound just like my wife!” Oghren huffed.

“How long will it take us to get to Bownammar?” Kallian asked.

“Another week or so,” Oghren answered, and she could practically see Kallian’s soul parting ways with her body.

“Zevran… can you just—” Kallian started.

“No,” Zevran replied immediately.

“You didn’t even let me finish,” Kallian protested.

“I will not assassinate you,” Zevran replied flatly.

“No… I wasn’t going to ask you to assassinate me,” Kallian shook her head.

“Oh?” Zevran replied, “then what were you going to ask, my dear Warden?”

“Can you just… assassinate the world?” Kallian asked.

“‘Twould seem that Kallian has yet to regain her logic,” she sighed.

“My dear Warden…” Zevran sighed, “I am good at what I do, yes, but I cannot simply assassinate the world.”

“You’re good at what you do?” Alistair blurted out, earning him a bark of laughter from Kallian.

***

It had been a long time since he’d last heard his Warden laugh, even as short-lived as it had been… he’d missed the sound of her laughter.

And of course, it would have been at his expense.

“So… Antiva,” Oghren said, “wonderful place… full of… Antivans.”

“Oghren,” he replied, “if you want to bed me, you have only to ask.”

“What?! Aren’t you trying to bed the Elven Warden?” Oghren replied, “draw your sword and say that again!”

“I jest, my foul-smelling friend,” he laughed holding up his hands, “and yes, I am… and you are only slightly less attractive to me than a slime-filled pool of swamp water.”

“Better be,” Oghren grunted.

“You have my oath,” he replied.

“Bloody Antivans,” Oghren huffed.

He still didn’t know what to make about his revelations on Warden lifespans… even if he could stop her from dying after the Blight… he would still eventually lose her to the Taint regardless. Sure, finding a cure was a possibility, considering his Warden seemed to always be able to find the impossible, but there was still a chance that this would be the one thing she couldn’t.

Would Andraste’s Ashes work on Grey Wardens?

No, Alistair had touched them, and he still had Tainted blood within him… Perhaps the mage did something special?

…Perhaps he should stop worrying about the future and concentrate on the current, considering that if he didn’t do something, he wouldn’t have to worry about losing her to the Taint… as he would instead lose her to herself.

He gave a glance towards the object of his thoughts, she was asleep, her head propped up on a block of wood under her neck, Diana curled up at her side.

How she was able to sleep like that was a mystery, though it did seem to cut down on the amount of time it took for her to get ready. Which was likely exactly why she chose to sleep like that.

***

_Act without action_  
 _Manage without meddling_  
 _Taste without tasting_  
 _Great, small, many, few_  
 _Respond to hatred with virtue_  
 _Plan difficult tasks through the simplest tasks_  
 _Achieve large tasks through the smallest tasks_  
 _The difficult tasks of the world_  
 _Must be handled through the simple tasks_  
 _The large tasks of the world_  
 _Must be handled through the small tasks_  
 _Therefore, sages never attempt great deeds all through life_  
 _Thus they can achieve greatness_  
 _One who makes promises lightly must deserve little trust_  
 _One who sees many easy tasks must encounter much difficulty_  
 _Therefore, sages regard things as difficult_  
 _So they never encounter difficulties all through life._

They should be in the Dead Trenches in another day or so…

If Branka was dead, she might go on a mass murder spree.

Ah, well, at least she had news for both Orta and Filda…

Ruck…

She had the blood of another desperate Mother’s son on her hands now… 

She made herself feel sick.

She wondered about how both Bevin and Kaitlyn were doing… she should have looked them up the last time they were in Denerim to make sure they were doing alright… Well, she’ll be able to do so later, so there was that… She hoped that their relatives weren’t mistreating them, or using them for the money she’d given them… Actually, what if they got robbed on their way to Denerim?! Wait… would it even be safe for her to look them up? She was a wanted woman… Who was also kicked out of the city by the City Guard…

Denerim… City Guard… Arl of Denerim’s estate… 

She felt sick just thinking about it. 

Arl Eamon’s estate was an Arl’s estate, yes, but it was different enough that it didn’t make her nauseous. It probably helped that the guards and servants were friendly and treated her kindly, though, she still refused to stay there. She could handle short bouts of being in the estate from what she could tell, but she didn’t want to push it. It’d be something she’d have to explain, and that was not something she wanted to do, it wasn’t her business to disclose.

Moving bit away from the group, she began moving her body, relinquishing control of it to instincts and reflexes as she envisioned a group of enemies.

Acting, reacting.

Like a feather floating through the air, like a stream that flows through the land, like the rustling of leaves on a windy day.

 _Wu wei._

Action without intent.

She let out a sigh as she halted her movements, part of her wanted to reconnect with the universe, but then she remembered Nola dying to set an example, Nelaros dying in her arms, Shianni… and who knows what the Alienage was going through now…

Also, fuck the universe, because the Deep Roads fucking suck like holy fucking shit, why?

She wanted a bath… Like, really, really, _really_ wanted a bath.

“What?” Alistair asked, “you’re… you’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“Eh? Was that a question?” Oghren asked in return, “it didn’t sound like a question.”

“How in the Maker’s name do you manage to be constantly drunk?” Alistair asked, “are we even carrying that much alcohol with us?”

“IS HE IN OUR STASH AGAIN?!” she roared.

“No, my dear Warden,” Zevran chuckled, “he is not.”

“Jealous, huh?” Oghren laughed ignoring them.

“A little, yes… why can’t I be drunk all the time?” Alistair asked, “I never get to be drunk.”

“You know, if you drank more wine,” Oghren replied, “you would whine much less.”

“Speaking of wine, my dear Warden,” Zevran said pulling out a bottle of plum wine, “how would you like some?”

“Ohh… is that plum wine?” Wynne asked.

“Yes, it is,” Zevran replied as she immediately went to his side and sat down next to him as he poured her a glass.

“You know… sometimes,” Alistair commented as she took the glass of wine from Zevran, “I feel like I can actually see Kalli’s cat tail.”

“Nyaaaaaaaaaa,” she replied as Zevran poured another glass for Wynne.

“Oh, this is fantastic wine,” Wynne said happily.

“Naturally,” Zevran replied almost smugly, “my dear Warden has excellent taste.”

Was he getting into another ‘look at my amazing wife’ discussion?

It was probably best to just ignore him, and not encourage it.

Especially considering what the asshole had whispered her before closing the lid of the crate.

_“But there are so many things I want to do with you, my dear Warden.”_

Her innocent mind had, at first, foolishly, gone to ‘oh, he just wants to share a drink under the stars’, before making the realization that he probably meant sex… Her brain was literally _hana yori dango_ ’ing up there. Except instead of dumplings, and flowers, it was booze over sex… what would that be? _Sake yori sekusu?_ Wait, no it’d be _sekusu yori sake_.

…She should stop thinking of Japanese in case she accidentally blurts something out… though, she could probably blame it on… going crazy from the Deep Roads or something.

“Are you sure you two aren’t together?” Oghren asked narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

“Very,” she answered immediately continuing to drink her wine.

Danger.

She felt like they were in danger, though in the Deep Roads, they were in danger all the fucking time, but this time was especially bad.

Noticing the look on both her and Alistair’s faces, everyone quickly took to the shadows as the Archdemon flew up onto the bridge to what she guessed was Bownammar and she resisted the urge to scream and rush up there to kill it. It had wings, she didn’t. It’d probably just fly away and then swoop back to eat her before moving on with its life. This wasn’t the right location for it, the terrain was too uneven. 

It’d be easy to get knocked off the edge.

They would have to somehow lure the Archdemon into an open-field or somewhere where the terrain is more forgiving… Though that would make it easier for the Darkspawn to swarm them…

If they could evacuate it beforehand, a city would be their best bet… they could set up ambush points and bottleneck the Darkspawn flow, and help gain the advantage by controlling the flow of battle…

Wait, how does one lure out an Archdemon, anyway?

“…Are you already strategizing?” Alistair asked.

“Of course,” she replied, “too bad I hit a roadblock in that I don’t know how to lure out an Archdemon, mya.”

“You want to lure out the Archdemon,” Alistair said flatly.

“Mm… securing the scene would be the easiest way to gain control of the flow of battle,” she nodded, “of course, all of this is moot until we actually get the fuck out of here… attacking someone on their home turf is typically a bad idea… Also because we lack the numbers that they clearly have since none of our allies are down here.”

“…You really are a martial prodigy, aren’t you?” Alistair asked.

“Gross,” she replied making a face, “though, I suppose I am a bit of a triple threat… fighting, strategizing, and tactics.”

“…Thank you for being the ‘Child of Adaia Tabris’,” Alistair replied.

“Go bald and die,” she replied snapping her fingers into a thumbs up, “ah, is that the Legion?”

They moved to join the fray, though to be completely honest she hated fighting with allies that were not part of their group… She didn’t know how to fight alongside them, and her fighting style was overly unique, so them getting the gist of fighting with her was also weird… all in all, it made it a pain in the ass to flow around the battlefield this way. Sure, she’s competent enough to handle it… but that didn’t make it any less of a chore.

She should stop seeing allies as burdens…

“Stone-blind beasts,” a Legionnaire said, “you’re no nightmare to us!”

She thought Dwarves didn’t dream… how would they know what a nightmare was? Was the thing she read on it a lie? Or maybe she read it wrong… she really only glanced at a small excerpt.

“Let them believe they hold us here!” the same Legionnaire shouted, “when the throne is settled, we’ll beat them to their vile birthing grounds!”

Ahh… Adrenaline and battle fervor… such beautiful things to keep her nausea at bay until she could properly feel barfy.

 _“Atrast vala,_ Grey Wardens,” the Legionnaire said to her and Alistair before turning his gaze onto her, “I’ve never seen one of your kind in the Deep Roads.”

“Hm? If you mean an Elf, then congrats, you got two,” she replied jerking a thumb over to Zevran, “but how do you know Alistair and I are Grey Wardens.”

“I recognize a fighter of Darkspawn… it marks you. It’s why we in the Legion of the Dead abandon our lives, so we can face them without fear,” the Legionnaire replied, “it’s a sacrifice I understand Grey Wardens are familiar with.”

Hm? But the others weren’t Wardens…

She still didn’t get it.

“I see,” she lied.

“What do you want here, Wardens?” the Legionnaire asked.

“My name is Alistair,” Alistair said introducing himself, “and we’re looking for allies.”

“Kardol… It’s an odd tactic, recruiting from the frontline… the Darkspawn pitch their camps in our tunnels between your ‘Blights’, you know,” Kardol replied, “give me a good Dwarven reason to look topside.”

“We need to find Paragon Branka,” Alistair said.

“Who put this dull idea in your head? We’ve got other things to worry about in Orzammar… ah, now I see,” Kardol sighed, “the deep lords in the Assembly can’t make up their minds, so the pretenders need added influence. I get that right?”

“Pretty much,” she replied.

“Warden, you’ve got your work cut out for you. Paragon Branka is dead, everyone with sense knows it,” Kardol replied, “past our line, the Darkspawn kill everything.”

“Then move your bloody line,” Oghren replied.

“I’d gladly lead an assault through the Dead Trenches, but without an ass in the throne, we have no orders,” Kardol replied, “I won’t take fool’s gold from a pretender… you want to go digging blind, you go right ahead.”

“Have you heard of the Anvil of the Void?” she asked.

“Like dusters have heard of respect. Never seen it, and if it exists it wasn’t meant for me,” Kardol replied, “but if you’re looking for Paragons, you may as well look for the Anvil… and endless lyrium.”

“Well, you should probably be more concerned with the Blight,” she commented.

“Why? The other kingdoms only care when the Darkspawn march in the light. But they are always here, always pushing,” Kardol replied, “your nightmare is my everyday. Our resolve gives you rest between Blights. A surge on the surface would give us a break… when the time comes, I’ll care for a good Dwarven reason. Sod the rest.”

“You can’t build a pile of bodies that reaches the heavens underground,” she replied, “also, because if they take over Ferelden… they’ll be able to attack Orzammar on two fronts… which sounds like a bad time… Orzammar wouldn’t be able to call on any allies, and I’m not quite sure those doors will last that long… and even if they do, you’ll eventually have to worry about starvation and dehydration… and then that’ll lead to overall anarchy… which sounds like extra bad times.”

“What she said,” Alistair said pointing at her, “…wait a ‘pile of bodies that reaches the heavens’?”

“That’s what happens in wars like these, you kill, kill, kill, and then watch the pile of bodies grow, grow, grow… and then we’ll set it on fire because Darkspawn,” she replied, “what is happening to my personality?”

“Spi— Things with too many parts, Darkspawn, and nausea,” Alistair answered, “along with lack of sleep… would be my guess.”

“Sounds about right,” she nodded, “in any case, we should move on.”

“Let us know if you find any Paragons… you’re as likely to find a dozen as one,” Kardol replied, “and Wardens… watch yourselves. Drunks make poor allies.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Tao Te Ching Chapter Sixty-Three_


	49. How the Cat Became Filled With Rage

Illness was spreading in the Alienage. 

Many of the others had already died and that it had set in after the Purge was… terrible timing. Agatha had died during the Purge, meaning that they lost their apothecary, and she had devoted so much time training Kallian that no one else came close to being near skilled enough.

And to make matters worse mages from Tevinter had set up a hospice to help treat them and she did _not_ trust them.

People went in, but they never came back out and she didn’t know what happened to them… and many of the people who went in looked like they were perfectly fine. Nessa and Valora had gone in, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever see them again…

Kallian needed to come home.

The Alienage needed their protector.

***

If the tunnels of the Deep Roads had been good for one thing: it was that she could just bounce off of a wall to deal with Ogres… there was no wall for her to bounce off of here.

Luckily, Alistair moved into place, and she was able to use him as a stepping stone, and thankfully, the rest of the steps were still the same… slice and roll.

“Well, Grey Wardens, I’ll give you credit for backbone, you’ve dug a line through the ‘spawn,” Kardol commented moving to meet them, “still no sense in your head, but you’ve got skill.”

“Thanks,” she replied, “well, we’ve got a Paragon and a mythical Anvil to find.”

“Good luck, Grey Wardens,” Kardol replied.

To be completely honest, she still didn’t understand how Kardol knew she was a Warden… Actually how _anyone_ knows or just immediately accepts that she’s a Warden is kind of weird.

…Were there many Wardens who didn’t wear armor? All she knew, was that both Alistair and Duncan did.

Though, it looked like the door was closed, though there looked like a tunnel off to the left… though there was a rune-stone with writing on it that was calling to her…

“Hey… Ali-butt,” she said while reading the tablet, “I have a question.”

“What do you need, Kalli-cat?” Alistair asked.

“Ohhh, I like that,” she asked, “what’s… thirty minus thirteen? Ah, wait, never mind, it’s seventeen.”

“Seventeen,” Alistair replied mockingly, “why?”

“9:13 Dragon: The Blight is building, though it is years from being named by the surface. But the Memories know the signs,” she read aloud, “the Legion has lost Bownammar, though, in truth, it was lost to the living long ago. The ‘spawn are moving freely and have numbers even the Memories haven’t seen… they will surge, release. We will fortify and follow. That is the way, and will always be so. Until we fall, and the surface wonders what has changed.”

They should probably send aid to Orzammar after the Blight… though, it’s a suggestion she wants Alistair to make on his own… so she’ll wait a bit to see if he does.

“Wait— Did you just say 9:13 Dragon!?” Alistair asked in shock, “that was seventeen years ago!”

“No shit… what was it that Flemeth said again?” she hummed and then cleared her throat, “‘and tell them this Blight’s threat is greater than they realize! Either the threat is more or they realize less, or perhaps the threat is nothing! Or perhaps they realize nothing!’ I wonder if she was referring to this…”

“Can you _please_ stop imitating Flemeth?” Morrigan groaned, “‘tis still most disturbing.”

“Let’s see… I thought she meant that there might be something else behind the Blight… though, the Blight had been starting to build seventeen years ago,” she said closing her eyes in thought, “uggh… I’m too stupid for this right now… I’m just gonna make a note real quick…”

She quickly scribbled ‘9:13’ onto a slip of paper.

Oh, they should probably leave the brontos here… they were going deep into Darkspawn territory, and they’d just be a liability… they unpacked their more important things and left the rest with the Legion.

They continued forwards through the tunnels until they were now traversing a part where there were smooth walls of carved stone. They were clearly in some kind of building now. And it took her a bit, but she finally realized it: there were no sacks of flesh here. Was it because they had long since conquered this territory and didn’t feel the need to decorate it?

“Has the Elder Mage ever encountered another golem?” Shale asked.

“I suppose there used to be a deactivated one stored in the Tower’s vault,” Wynne answered, “I wonder what became of it.”

“Why was it deactivated?” Shale asked, “did it crush some arrogant mage’s head after one too many commands?”

“I do not know, Shale,” Wynne replied, “perhaps it is just irreparably broken… I think it stayed in the Tower because no one could move it. It is very, very old… I believe it came from Tevinter, a long time ago. Perhaps someone bought it so it would guard the Tower.”

“Its people do enjoy their slaves,” Shale replied, “don’t they?”

“Ooph,” she couldn’t stop herself from cringing.

“It… it was _not_ a slave!” Wynne replied, “it was… it is a…”

“A tool?” Shale asked, “as I thought. No, don’t deny it. No.”

Shale really liked doing things like this… stirring up drama just for the fun of it… Not that she could say anything since she kinda sorta did the same… say something ridiculous and then use it as a segue.

“I just don’t understand you Elves,” Oghren said as they walked past rooms of sarcophagi, “not one bit.”

“Oh?” Zevran asked, “where is your comprehension lacking, my friend?”

“These Humans… they turn you all into slaves,” Oghren replied, “they… what did they do? They destroyed your homeland! Twice!”

“What is your point, Dwarf?” Zevran asked lowly.

“Well, I just don’t understand,” Oghren replied, “why don’t you just… kill ‘em all?”

“There are a great many more Humans than Elves,” Zevran replied dryly, “if you haven’t noticed.”

“So? There’s a hundred Humans for every Dwarf, too,” Oghren replied, “but you don’t see us bending over an’ getting out pipes cleaned, do you?”

“That’s big talk for a man who lives in a tunnel,” Zevran replied.

“All I know is that Dwarves would never stand for it,” Oghren replied, “you’d think you Elves would have learned to duck.”

“That must be it,” Zevran replied, “exactly.”

“Please allow me to clear up any of your confusion with a simple question,” she said, “would you rather your entire race die out with your generation and become a mere footnote in the sands of time? Or survive and hope for a better future? Elves… we placed all our hope in the future, it was a gamble, still is a gamble… But the point is, that despite everything: we’re still here… Giving up can be one of the hardest and most courageous things a person will ever do. Never forget that.”

“How is giving up courageous?” Oghren asked.

“How else would you be able to live to fight another day? Sometimes you gotta surrender in order to win,” she replied, “also, I don’t think Humans would attack Dwarves like that anyway… One of the reasons people go to war is because of greed— the desire to be in control of certain resources. Other than the lyrium that Humans can’t even harvest safely, Dwarves don’t really have any resources they want.”

“You know a lot about these types of things,” Alistair commented.

“Yeah, ‘cause I hate it. I hate it, so I learn about it so that I can hate it properly,” she replied, “I’m sure with the Exalted Marches, the Chantry told people they were going to war because they were heathens when in reality, they just wanted resources… saying you’re going to war over religion is more palatable than saying ‘hey, go kill those people over there for me because I want their stuff’.”

Plus… the military did have its uses, outside of killing each other… since in their quest to find better ways to kill each other, technology developed, as did medicine and other such things. She wasn’t stupid, she knew how technology in her old world advanced itself forward, it was all because of the military. Phones, computers, the internet… all of these were developed by the military and then released to the general public later on.

As they continued forward, she started to see the Darkspawn’s telltale brainy sacks of flesh, and she began hearing someone chanting something in the distance, though, she couldn’t make out the words just yet… 

Moving closer, she started to be able to make out the words, though the speaker seemed to be looping.

“First day, they come and catch everyone.  
Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat.  
Third day, the men are all gnawed on again.  
Fourth day, we wait, and fear for our fate.  
Fifth day, they return and it’s another girl’s turn.  
Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams.  
Seventh day, she grew as in her mouth they spew.  
Eighth day, we hated as she is violated.  
Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin.  
Now she does feast, as she’s become the beast.”

Turning the corner, she finally found the speaker: a Dwarven woman. What was she doing here? And what is that chant?

…Why have the Darkspawn kept her alive…?

“That looks like Hespith…” Oghren said.

“What is this? An Elf? Exotic and impossible,” Hespith said looking at her, “feeding time brings only kin and clan. I am cruel to myself. You are a dream of strangers faces and open doors.”

“Is this… Darkspawn corruption?” Morrigan asked, “it looks… different.”

“Corruption! The men did that! Their wounds festered and their minds left… they are like dogs, marched ahead, first to die,” Hespith replied, “not us. Not me. Not Laryn. We are not cut. We are fed. Friends and flesh and blood and bile and… and… all I could do was wish Laryn went first. I wished it upon her so that I would be spared… But I had to watch. I had to see the change. How do you endure that? How did Branka endure?”

A chill ran down her spine before anger began to build as realization hit her: Darkspawn don’t kill women.

***

The air suddenly seemed colder than it had been before as a well of cool anger began to fill in his Warden’s shape.

“What change?” Alistair asked, “what are they doing?”

“What they’re allowed to do… what they think they must… and Branka,” Hespith answered and every word turned into a drop that continued to feed the storm of rage brewing within his Warden, “her lover, and I could not turn her. Forgive her… but no, she cannot be forgiven. Not for what she did. Not for what she has become.”

“What did she do, Hespith?” Oghren asked, “what did Branka do?”

“I will not speak of her! Of what she did, of what we have become!” Hespith replied before running off, “I will not turn! I will not become what I have seen! Not Laryn! Not Branka!”

“Darker and darker,” Morrigan said, “I thought it was black as it was…”

“This is no longer entertaining,” he furrowed his brows, “what was done to these people?”

“There’s worse to come,” Sten said, “that woman, she’s seen things a mortal mind can’t grasp.”

“There’s worse to come?” Alistair asked.

“And still no Branka,” Wynne sighed, “it is growing doubtful anyone could survive this unchanged.”

“What… happened here?” Oghren asked, “Branka has to explain this… she has to…”

“Is it certain we need to be here?” Shale asked, “this cannot end well.”

His Warden said nothing as she moved in the direction Hespith had fled to… the Darkspawn that approached them died far quicker than before…

He caught a glimpse of the cold, calculating eyes of a deadly beast stalking her prey…

If Branka were alive, she wouldn’t be for much longer.

“Bownammar,” Oghren said in almost awe, “I thought it would have fallen to dust by now.”

“Oh, I can just imagine how grand this fortress must have been,” Wynne said looking around, “before the Darkspawn took it.”

“How long do you think it’s been since anyone has walked in these halls?” Alistair asked.

“How many such places have been lost to the Darkspawn, I wonder,” he found himself wondering, “Dwarven marvels throughout Thedas, all lost to shadow.”

“Hallowed ground,” Sten commented, “blood has been spilled in battle here.”

“This is a holy place,” Shale replied, “do I remember? I… am not sure.”

“’Tis a shrine of some kind,” Morrigan mused, “who would be worshiped, here? And why?”

“Funny how we haven’t seen any other of those nug-things for a while,” Leliana wondered, “do you think the Darkspawn ate them all?”

His Warden maintained her silence as she grabbed the key from the alter and backtracking, not even reacting to the ghosts that sprung into the offensive.

They continued to hear Hespith as they continued forward, and the chill in the air surrounding his Warden continued to grow ever colder with each word… as it became clear what Darkspawn did to women.

And not even the monstrous Broodmother could compare to the monster they were traveling with.

***

“That’s where they come from… that’s why they hate us… that’s why they need us, that’s why they take us… that’s why they feed us,” Hespith announced after the Broodmother’s life was swiftly ended, “but the true abomination… is not that it occurred, but that it was allowed. Branka… my love… the Stone has punished me, dream-friend. I am dying of something worse than death: betrayal.”

Facing the Broodmother… ‘twas a hard experience to get through… if they failed here, then would that be their fate…?

Suddenly, the air was filled with giggling.

They turned to the source of it just as the giggling progressed into cruel maniacal unhinged laughter that cooled her blood and sent shivers down her spine.

Kallian was laughing.

Scarlet hair wild from the various fights they’d been in as she laughed painting a scene of absolute malevolence.

Kallian truly was a monster of her own making.

“I am filled with so much anger, hatred, and _rage_ right now, that I can’t even _think_ straight,” Kallian hissed emerald eyes wild with anger, “that she would _abuse_ the trust her house had placed in her to this point? Turning the women of her house into _Broodmothers?_ Subjecting them to this? Into losing themselves to become breeders for Darkspawn? And it’s not even just this house… all those survivors that Morrigan saw being dragged beneath the earth after the Battle of Ostagar? Well, I guess we know what happened to them now, don’t we?”

Any thought she once had of smuggling the woman out of the country was immediately banished as horror dawned upon everyone.

“Maker’s breath…” Alistair said in horrified realization, “you’re right…”

“Oh, Holy Maker…” Wynne gasped in horror.

“Branka… Loghain, will both pay for this,” Kallian snarled, “it’s bad enough men subject women to shitty treatment, but for another woman to do so as well?”

Diana was growling angrily right alongside with her mistress.

“It would seem that the Superior Warden has lost her mind,” Shale commented.

“I am not a Warden right now,” Kallian replied a cruel smile playing on her lips, “I am the Vengeful Cat, the vigilante that seeks vengeance for those who’ve been wronged… Oghren, I’m killing your wife… Or maybe I should cripple her so that she can never use a forge again in her entire life?”

The woman dissolved back into cruel bone-chilling laughter.

_“Oh, sweetie… you don’t even know the amount of cruelty I’m capable of… and let’s hope it stays that way.”_

If Ferelden fell to the Blight, all the women in Ferelden would become this… and if she smuggled Kallian out of the country, this would be what awaited her.

She would simply have to rely on Zevran, then.

***

Rage.

Pure unadulterated rage coursed throughout her entire being.

Loghain’s idiotic ignorance aside… Branka knew and subjected her house to this knowingly.

She could feel a measure of fear coming from those that followed… they didn’t know the intensity of her monstrosity… but to end the evilest of monsters, you have to become worse than they are… though even she was aware that she may be flying too close to the sun, and that she needed to be wary of the darker aspects of her personality… and make sure her hubris wouldn’t consume her and morph her into something obscene.

“We have to be getting close,” Alistair said

“The Anvil of the Void is near,” Shale nodded, “I can feel it.”

“If Branka is anywhere, this has to be it,” Oghren commented, “she will not be unprepared.”

“A troubled place,” Sten replied, “if this Branka is here, we must be wary of her.”

“Can she have existed down here for so long,” Wynne asked, “and remained approachable?”

“How obsessed is she to have existed here for so long?” Morrigan asked.

“I wonder what state she is in after living here so long,” Zevran mused.

“Not a good one,” Leliana replied, “that’s for certain.”

A sound from behind them, a trap?

“What was that?” Oghren asked.

“Let me be blunt with you. After all this time, my tolerance for social graces is fairly limited,” Branka, she guessed, said, “that doesn’t bother you, I hope.”

“Shave my back and call me an Elf! Branka?” Oghren said cheerfully, “by the Stone, I barely recognized you!”

“Oghren. It figures you’d eventually find your way here. Hopefully, you can find your way back more easily,” Branka replied dismissively before her eyes slid over to her and Alistair, “and how shall I address you? Hired sword of the latest lordling to come looking for me? Or just the only one who didn’t mind Oghren’s ale-breath.”

“Be respectful, woman!” Oghren replied, “you’re talking to a Grey Warden.”

“Ah, so an important errand boy, then. I suppose something serious has happened. Is Endrin dead?” Branka asked, “that seems most likely. He was on the old and wheezy side.”

“Oh? And how do you know that I’m not just helping Oghren?” she asked.

She _could_ close the gap and kill her… but that wouldn’t be any fun.

“Because nobody helps Oghren,” Branka scoffed, “at best, Oghren’s need to find me happened to coincide with the needs of someone more important.”

“Arrrrrgh! You are _impossible!_ ” Oghren groaned, “this Grey Warden’s come all the way from the surface to ask your help picking Endrin’s successor.”

“I don’t care if the Assembly puts a drunken monkey on the throne,” Branka replied, “because our protector, our great invention, the thing that once made our armies the envy of the world, is lost to the very Darkspawn it should be fighting… The Anvil of the Void. The means by which the ancients forged their army of golems and held off the first Archdemon ever to rise. It’s here. So close I can taste it!”

“But of course there’s a catch,” Alistair sighed.

“The Anvil lies on the other side of a gauntlet of traps designed by Caridin himself… my people and I have given body and soul to unlocking its secrets,” Branka replied, “ _this_ is what’s important. _This_ has lasting meaning. If I succeed, the Dwarven people benefit. Kings, politics… all that is transitory.”

She felt her temper flare again.

“Does that include Hespith and the others of your house?” she asked sharply.

“Enough questions! If you wish me to get involved with this imbecilic election, I must first have the Anvil,” Branka glowered, “there is only one way out, Wardens. Forward. Through Caridin’s maze and out to where the Anvil waits.”

“What has this place done to you?!” Oghren asked, “I remember marrying a girl you could talk to for one minute and see her brilliance!”

“I am your Paragon,” Branka replied.

Darkspawn began attacking them, and in order to keep herself somewhat sane, she tuned Branka out.

“I don’t understand,” Shale said, “why doesn’t the Superior Warden simply leap up there to kill it?”

“Naturally, it’s because I want her to suffer,” she replied fully aware that her voice was coming out sweetly, “what’s worse? Dying before you can see your goal? Dying after achieving it? Or falling one.step.short?”

“Oh… remind me to never make you angry,” Alistair replied.

“Do you plan on sacrificing women to become Broodmothers in order to achieve your goals?” she asked, “or anything just as abhorrent?”

“Maker’s breath, no,” Alistair replied rapidly shaking his head.

“Then you’ll be fine,” she replied waving a sleeve around dismissively as Darkspawn attacked them, “I’m benevolently malevolent… I’m malevolent in the name of benevolence.”

She tightly wrapped a scarf around the lower half of her face, making absolutely sure to cover her nose and mouth and took a deep breath before both she and Shale moved to turn off the valves in the gas chamber. They continued forward, disarming traps and dealing with a weird giant rotating statue-type-thing.

Finally, they ended up in a room with only golems, and in the distance, she could see a great Anvil.

Perfect.

“My name is Caridin. Once, longer ago than I care to think,” Caridin announced as they approached effectively stealing her thunder, “I was a Paragon to the Dwarves of Orzammar.”

“Caridin? The Paragon smith?” Shale asked in shock, “alive?”

“Ah, there is a voice I recognize,” Caridin replied, “Shayle of the House of Cadash, step forward.”

“You… know my name? Is it you that forged me, then?” Shayle asked, “is it you that gave me my name?”

Well… there went her rage… She should have just listened to Branka and continued to let her piss her off.

“Have you forgotten, then? It has been so long,” Caridin sighed, “I made you into the golem you are now, Shayle, but before that, you were a Dwarf… just as I was. The finest warrior to serve King Valtor, and the only woman to volunteer.”

“The only… woman!?” Shayle asked in alarm, “a Dwarf?!”

“I laid you on the Anvil of the Void,” Caridin replied, “here in this very room, and put you into the form you now possess.”

“The Anvil of the Void…” Shayle replied, “that is what we seek.”

“If you seek the Anvil, then you must care about my story,” Caridin said, “or be doomed to relive it.”

“You made the Anvil, I take it?” Alistair asked.

“Though I made many things in my time, I rose to fame and earned my status based on a single item: the Anvil of the Void,” Caridin nodded, “it allowed me to forge a man of steel or stone, as flexible and clever as any soldier. As an army, they were invincible. But I told no one the cost. No mere smith, however skilled, has the power to create life. To make my golems live, I had to take their lives from elsewhere.”

“That sounds like blood magic,” Alistair replied.

“The Darkspawn were pressing in. Originally I only took volunteers, the bravest of souls willing to trade their very lives for the chance to defend their homeland,” Caridin replied, “but King Valtor became greedy. He began to force men… casteless and criminals… his political enemies… all of them were to be given to the Anvil… it took feeling the hammer’s blow myself to realize the height of my crimes.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” she sighed her blood lust already long gone, “and in a situation like that… well, people don’t say that power corrupts without reason.”

“The blow of the hammer opened my eyes… my apprentices knew enough to make me as I am, but not enough to fashion a control rod. I retained my mind,” Caridin replied, “you were amongst the most loyal, Shayle. You remained at my side throughout, and at the end, I sent you away out of mercy.”

“I… do not remember,” Shayle replied.

“We have remained entombed here ever since, and I have sought a way to destroy the Anvil,” Caridin explained, “alas, I cannot do it myself. No golem can touch it.”

“No! The Anvil is mine!” Branka shouted bringing her anger back along with her, “no one will take it from me!”

“Shayle… you fought to destroy the Anvil once!” Caridin pleaded, “do not allow it to fall into unthinking hands again!”

“You speak of things I do not remember. You say we fought…” Shayle replied, “did you use our control rods to command us to do so?”

“I destroyed the rods! Perhaps my apprentices eventually learned to replace the rods, I do not know, but if so, then all they need is the Anvil to make all the slaves they need!” Caridin replied before turning to her, “you! Please… help me destroy the Anvil! Do not let it enslave more souls than it already has!”

“We just need it to bargain with Branka,” Alistair replied, “we won’t make golems.”

“ _We_ won’t,” she replied turning around to fully face Branka, “that does not mean others won’t as well… people will always instinctually tread the path of least resistance, not caring just where it leads.”

“So it fights with Caridin? Good,” Shayle replied, “that seems right.”

“Living souls suffer all the time. Peasants working the land are trapped, but we do not go about destroying farmland, do we?” Zevran asked, “it just seems a waste to destroy the Anvil, given what it could do.”

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing, but have you no desire to discover this Anvil’s potential? It is a marvel, a tool of creation!” Morrigan added, “you could rival the Maker Himself with this instrument! If you destroy the Anvil, I swear you will regret it.”

“Oh, you poor sweet naive innocent little fools,” she cooed, “anything that can be done to others can be done to you, as well.”

“You would not dare!” Morrigan glared.

“Yes, let’s not be unreasonable,” Zevran replied, “you wouldn’t do _that_ , surely.”

“ _I_ wouldn’t, sure,” she replied, “but that doesn’t mean _others_ won’t, nya?”

“Alright, alright,” Zevran sighed, “perhaps destroying it _is_ a good idea.”

“Thank you, stranger,” Caridin replied, “your compassion shames me.”

“No! You will not take it!” Branka shouted, “not while I still live!”

“Branka!” Oghren shouted back, “don’t throw your life away for this!”

“She’s not the Branka you know any more,” she commented.

“Just give her the blasted thing!” Oghren protested, “she’s confused… maybe once she calms down, we can talk to her!”

“Oghren, she sacrificed her entire _house_ to the Darkspawn,” she hissed, “we’re far past the point of redemption.”

“Bah! You are not the only master smith here, Caridin!” Branka glowered, “Golems, obey me! Attack!”

“A control rod!” Caridin shouted in shock, “but… my friend, you must help me! I cannot stop her alone!”

***

His fellow Warden let out a long sigh once the battle was done, and he could tell that part of the reason she sighed was because her thunder got stolen. Though quite honestly, he was rather glad her thunder got stolen, she had been extremely terrifying for a measure of time. He wished he didn’t know of the amount of cruelty she was capable of.

“Another life lost because of my invention,” Caridin sighed, “I wish no mention of it had made it into history.”

“Well, let’s make this the last one then,” Kallian replied.

“Yeah, you ain’t kidding,” Oghren grumbled, “stupid woman! Always knew the Anvil would kill her.”

“How is it that the woman was not able to disable me as she did you, Caridin?” Shayle asked.

“I do not know,” Caridin replied, “have you been altered?”

“I once had a pathetic little mage of a master. He… did something to me, experimented on me,” Shayle replied, “and then I killed him and it rendered me paralyzed.”

“Hmm… perhaps he was bringing forth old memories? And caused you to remember the time when… you fought at my side,” Caridin offered, “the paralysis you speak of always resulted when the master perished. As for your free will… you were always a strong woman, Shayle. I am pleased to see you remained such.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Shayle replied, “thank you.”

“Do not thank me… all of this is my doing, my legacy,” Caridin sighed, “but at least it ends here. I thank you for standing with me, stranger.”

“Of course,” Kallian replied, “ah… does that mean we can destroy her control rod?”

“Yes, it should be fine…” Caridin replied and Kallian took out the control rod and handed it over to Shayle, “is there any boon I can grant you for your aid? A final favor before I am freed from my burden?”

“Oghren? You lost Branka to this,” Kallian said watching Shayle toss the rod into the lava, “what do you want?”

“Huh… don’t suppose you can bring Branka back?” Oghren asked, “maybe make her a golem, like you?”

“I would not do such a thing to her even if I could,” Caridin replied.

“Somehow I didn’t think so… Then I don’t want anything that would remind me of… this. Best it’s just done,” Oghren sighed, “there… is still the matter of the election. I mean… we still need a Paragon to get the Assembly’s support, right?”

“Well, I was just planning on bullshitting our way through,” Kallian remarked.

“For the aid, you’ve given me,” Caridin replied walking to the Anvil, “I shall put hammer to steel one last time, and give you a crown for the king of your choice.”

“So, Kalli,” he said as they waited, “I was thinking, that after the Blight, we should send aid to Orzammar.”

“Good idea,” Kallian replied immediately snapping her fingers to give him a thumbs-up, “but what are your reasons?”

“Well… because Darkspawn, for one,” he answered, “but it would also strengthen our diplomatic relations.”

“It’ll also give our soldiers more field experience,” Kallian nodded, “and the increased trade-flow would do wonders for the coffers of both kingdoms, considering that we’d both be recovering from civil war and the Blight… Though you should also do something for the Dalish as well.”

“And the mages,” he added.

“Yep,” Kallian replied snapping to give him another thumbs up.

“It is done, give it to whom you will,” Caridin said handing over the crown, “I do not wish to hear their names, nor anything more of them. I have already lived far beyond my time. I have no place here.”

“Then I will destroy the Anvil,” he said stepping up, “as promised.”

“But… where will you go?” Shayle asked, “you don’t mean to…?”

“I do. I lived to ensure that the Anvil was never used again, and now it never shall be,” Caridin replied, “we all must have an end, Shayle. May yours be one of your choosing.”

Both he and Kallian worked together to shove the Anvil off of the ledge and watch it sink into the lava.

“You have my eternal thanks, Strangers,” Caridin replied, “ _atrast nal tunsha_ … may you always find your way in the dark.”

“Farewell,” Kallian replied as Caridin jumped off the ledge and into his death.

“Well, that pretty much beat the sod out of how I imagined it,” Oghren sighed, “you ready to head back yet and share the news?”

“I’m sorry Oghren,” Kallian apologized before wandering off distracted, “and ye— oh, hey what’s that?”

Any trace of cruelty and malice that had previously been there was completely gone as if it hadn’t even existed at all.

“Shayle, do you recognize this?” Kallian asked beckoning the golem over to her.

“No, perhaps it thinks I should?” Shayle asked, “it may have something to do with Caridin’s words. If there is some way to make a copy of these runes, I am willing to study them. Perhaps there is something to be gleaned from them, I know not.”

“Let me see…” Oghren replied moving to them, “huh… names. A long list of Dwarves. Er… Hold on… ‘we honor those who have made this sacrifice; let their names be remembered.’ Fart me a lullaby! It’s a memorial… of all the Dwarves who became golems! Has to be! If there’s some way of getting this back to the Shaperate in Orzammar, I’d bet they’d brown their trousers! And pay good gold for it. Probably both.”

“I have papers, and coal,” Kallian said taking out a stack of parchment, “Shayle, I need a lift, please… here you guys help too.”

They spent a bit tracing the ancient runes onto the parchment, Kallian sitting on Shayle’s shoulders to get to the higher ones.

“Alright, let’s head back to the Assembly,” Kallian nodded, “they need to know.”

“Eh… those deshyrs have been trying to destroy the city for years,” Oghren replied, “haven’t managed yet.”

***

Part of him wondered if he had imagined his Warden’s cruelty, considering how easily it had vanished without a trace. It was such a strong and intense intimidation, and of course, he still thought that she was incredibly sexy, the idea of playing with such intense fire was rather invigorating.

“What exactly are you drinking, my fine Dwarven friend?” he asked.

“You can’t have any!” Oghren replied bluntly, “especially since you won’t share either!”

“Do not worry,” he replied dryly, “the stench is worse than your feet.”

“And what are you doin’ smellin’ my feet?” Oghren asked defensively, “is that some kind of Antivan perversion?”

“It is not difficult to smell your feet,” he replied, “perhaps _in_ Antiva…”

“Now you’re beginning to sound like Branka,” Oghren replied.

“Well, she must be a Dwarf with astoundingly clean feet,” he replied, “by the way, my dear Warden, why don’t we share our stash with him? When we get back to it, I mean.”

“I just… don’t want to sit down after a hard day in order to just find all of my favorite booze gone,” Kallian answered, “sitting down to relax only to find an empty bottle is agonizing.”

“Ah… yes,” he nodded, “that would be a… rather painful experience.”

“Also, we need to ration it out,” Kallian added, “if we don’t then we’ll be booze-less for part of the journey and it’s a bit of luxury that I need to keep myself from going on a murder spree… and we didn’t pack enough for three booze enthusiasts.”

“Shayle of House Cadash,” Shayle said to her?self, “is that who I once was? I find this difficult to believe.”

“You’re tall for a Dwarf,” Alistair commented.

“I am not a Dwarf! Or, at least, I am not a Dwarf any longer,” Shayle replied defensively, “if I was this Shayle of House Cadash as Caridin said, there must be some evidence of my existence remaining. I must find it.”

“Perhaps there are records in Orzammar?” Kallian asked tilting her head to the side, “or we have that golem registry too.”

“There is another way,” Shayle replied, “what Caridin said, it has allowed me to remember one thing. I believe I know where Cadash Thaig is.”

“We can go there, if you’d like,” Kallian replied.

“Its offer is appreciated,” Shayle replied, “I will mark the location on its map. If we can journey there soon, I am most curious as to what we will find.”

“Hmm… it’s kinda sorta on our way back to Orzammar,” Kallian said looking at the map before moving to check their provisions, “we can head there before we return.”

“But what about the Assembly?” Alistair asked.

“Oghren said it himself,” Kallian replied, “they’ve been trying to destroy the city for years… they’ll be fiiinne.”

“I thought you wanted to get out of here as soon as possible,” he pointed out.

“I also never want to come back here again,” Kallian replied, “so, it’s on the way.”

“I still think we should head to Orzammar first,” Alistair replied.

“Are you questioning me?” Kallian asked challengingly.

“Yes,” Alistair replied standing his ground, “we should head back to Orzammar first and settle matters with the crown… after that, we can go to Cadash Thaig.”

“Are you crying, my dear Warden?” he asked in alarm.

“I’m just… so proud,” Kallian sniffed, “I feel like such a proud Mother right now.”

“Were… were you testing me?” Alistair asked in shock.

“It didn’t start off that way,” Kallian replied waving a sleeve around, “but it took a turn that way so I just went with it, nya-nya.”


	50. How the Cat Crowned a Dwarven King

She absolutely hated that she had been called a ‘poor sweet naive innocent little fool’, despite the fact that ‘twas true that she had not considered that one might set her upon the Anvil of the Void. A concept Kallian had grasped immediately, considering that even Caridin who had invented the Anvil had been set upon it himself.

‘Twas a lesson that Flemeth would have taught her as well, in a very similar fashion.

_“Anything that can be done to others can be done to you, as well.”_

_“In the end, it’s all about that golden rule: treat others the way you want to be treated.”_

Though, most likely, Kallian’s thought process was something along the lines of ‘Oh, I don’t want to be turned into a golem against my will… so let’s not give others that chance.’. Perhaps knowing and understanding that whatever she does to others is something that can be done to her as well is what makes her such a master of manipulation. The demon inhabiting Sophia’s body had mentioned that she was more manipulative, and calculating than any demon, and truly, she was.

Still, being called a naive innocent fool was not something that sat well with her… Though, the only thing she could do about it now, ‘twas to make sure that that could not be said of her ever again. Which was something she could accomplish by simply considering that Kallian’s ‘golden rule’, as she had put it, was to ‘treat others the way you want to be treated’.

***

Kallian once again acquiesced leadership over to him and he was getting more confident in his leadership abilities, which was likely her goal.

He had no illusions: any degree of control he had over their group was solely because Kallian gave it to him, and she _would_ step in if he needed help or if he was going in a direction she _really_ didn’t like. Still, he was becoming more comfortable with the idea of being King, and leading a country.

“Lords of the Assembly, I call for order!” the Steward shouted, “this argument gets us nowhere!”

“Then why these delaying tactics?” Bhelen asked, “I call for a vote right now. My Father has one living child to assume the Aeducan throne. Who would deny him that?”

“Your Father made me swear on his deathbed you would not succeed him,” Harrowmont, he guessed, replied.

“I apologize for the interruption, Lord Steward,” the Guard escorting them in said, “but the Grey Wardens have returned.”

“Well, Alistair?” Bhelen asked, “what news do you bring.”

“I bear a crown from Paragon Caridin for his chosen King,” he announced and Kallian stepped forward with the crown.

“Caridin was trapped in the body of a golem. These Wardens granted him the mercy he sought, releasing him and destroying the Anvil of the Void,” Oghren added, “before he died, Caridin forged a crown for Orzammar’s next king, chosen by the Ancestors themselves!”

“I would like to believe Oghren’s word,” Harrowmont replied, “but it’s well-known that the Grey Wardens are Bhelen’s hirelings!”

“Silence!” the Steward shouted moving to take the crown from Kallian, “this crown _is_ of Paragon make, and bears House Ortan’s ancient seal. Tell us, then, Alistair: whom did Caridin choose?”

“Caridin chose Bhelen,” he announced, “to be the next King of Orzammar.”

It was probably best to keep it to themselves that Caridin didn’t want to even hear their names.

“At last,” Bhelen replied, “his farce is ended and I can take my rightful place on my Father’s throne.”

The Dwarves of the Assembly moved to the field, slamming their staves into the ground as they moved to the side to stay out of the way as Bhelen moved to kneel in front of the Steward.

“Let the Memories find you worthy,” the Steward announced placing the crown on Bhelen’s head, “first amidst the Lord of the Houses, the King of Orzammar.”

“Do _you_ acknowledge me as King?” Bhelen asked Harrowmont.

“I… cannot defy a Paragon,” Harrowmont replied kneeling, “the throne is yours… King Bhelen.”

“Then as my first act as King, I call for this man’s execution!” Bhelen announced, “guards, seize him!”

He was about to protest but Kallian shook her head slightly to stop him.

That’s right, he’ll be in a similar position later… Loghain also can’t be allowed to live, otherwise, Ferelden will stay divided as well, and Anora was the same.

“King Bhelen, may your reign be long and prosperous,” he said instead.

“I will return to my palace to gather my generals and prepare our forces for the surface,” Bhelen replied, “I will see you there, Wardens. You have my gratitude for all you have done for me.”

“Nicely done,” Kallian smiled, “and I know, it seems wrong… but that’s just how these things go. The surface is the same, people are divided between both our and Loghain’s factions at the moment… eliminating one faction is the best way to secure unity. United we stand, divided we fall.”

“Yes… I realized that,” he sighed.

“Now, we’re not quite done here yet,” Kallian replied, “so shall we?”

“Yes,” he nodded as they moved towards the palace.

“And then we get to go look for Cadash Thaig,” Kallian sighed as they entered the palace, “though we should probably wait until tomorrow… It should only take us a day or two to actually get to the place so it’ll be okay.”

They were directed to the throne room, where Bhelen was waiting for them.

“You have proven yourself and more, Alistair,” Bhelen said addressing him, “without your aid, I would not have taken this throne so smoothly, or so soon.”

“You will be a stronger king than Harrowmont,” he replied.

“His name need not pass your lips again. My generals are already preparing for a mission to the surface. When you have need of us, you shall have every able-bodied Dwarf in Orzammar… Since you did more than I expected, I offer a personal reward as well” Bhelen replied before presenting them with a mace, “this is an ancient mace of House Aeducan. It’s said to be enchanted against Darkspawn… I think you need it more than I do… now, I have much to do. If there is nothing else…”

“We will finish our business here and return to the surface,” he replied, “thank you for your aid.”

“Good luck, Alistair,” Bhelen replied, “may we both crush our enemies.”

***

_While alive, the body is soft and pliant_  
 _When dead, it is hard and rigid_  
 _All living things, grass and trees,_  
 _While alive, are soft and supple_  
 _When dead, become dry and brittle_  
 _Thus that which is hard and stiff_  
 _is the follower of death_  
 _That which is soft and yielding_  
 _is the follower of life_  
 _Therefore, an inflexible army will not win_  
 _A strong tree will be cut down_  
 _The big and forceful occupy a lowly position_  
 _While the soft and pliant occupy a higher place._

They stayed the night at the Royal Palace in Orzammar, at Bhelen’s insistence, and she decided to be a diva and take two baths… Honestly, she had wanted three, but she didn’t want to inconvenience them more than she already had. Of course, she made sure to give the records to Orta, and then also the golem registry to the Shaperate… and give her condolences to Filda… Who she, of course, lied to. She knew it had to be done, but it still didn’t feel good.

She really missed Hawai’i… the ocean… ridin’ waves… the sky…

She also wished she didn’t have to return Brontosaurus Rex, and Brhinoceros.

“If I’d heard it second hand I’d have called it a sodding lie. Wardens, we’ve got a king because of you,” Kardol said as they left the palace to journey to Cadash Thaig, “the rest, impressive, but the Legion is grateful most for restored leadership. It frees us to fight to the Darkspawn properly.”

“Can we count on you to fight the Blight at our side?” Alistair asked.

“Nay, our place is down here,” Kardol replied, “when you break the Blight, and you’ve got the skill, we’ll make sure they have nowhere to retreat… You’ll have us indirectly. That’s more than any surfacer can say.”

“We need skilled warriors to fight against the Blight topside,” Alistair replied.

“Well, you two alone have the skill to back up your words… Each of the Legion owes our homeland a death, but if our lives are better shed on the surface, so be it!” Kardol replied, “back to Orzammar when we win, though. I’ll not stay topside to lost my Stone-Sense.

They moved back towards the Deep Roads and she sighed. She still needed to hunt down Dwyn in Redcliffe for Sten’s Sword, but they’ll get there soon… of course they still also had to go back to the Circle, but getting there shouldn’t take too long, they could probably just take a boat across the lake from the fishing village nearby. And of course… the Landsmeet…

Ah, well… Alistair was doing spectacular, and she truly was incredibly proud of him… He’ll do a fine job running the country, and she’ll be able to rest easy once she ends the Archdemon. It was the duty forced upon her after all, and she was tired anyway. Tired of sleeping, tired of dreaming, tired of so, so, so much. Especially considering that Ruck and Filda had decided to join in on the fun. 

Ferelden would be in fine hands in the future, of that she had no doubt.

Zevran on the other hand… she needs to do something… though it’s probably already too late. No, it's definitely already too late… She never should have brought him along, she should have just sent him on his way… he could have found his way, she was sure. She knew there were other reasons behind him wanting to join them. That it wasn’t just the Crows… that she’d piqued his interest… It didn’t help that he’d piqued her interest too…

Damn her idiotic curiosity.

“Ahhh… the things I do for love,” she sighed.

“Say… Kallian,” Oghren said as they began trekking towards Cadash Thaig.

“Yeah?” she asked.

“So… I was thinking… there’s nothing left for me in Orzammar anymore,” Oghren replied, “so… what would you say to me joinin’ the fight on the Surface once we’re done here?”

“Yeah, sure, why not?” she shrugged, “you said it yourself, what’s one more crazy person, ey?”

“Perfect,” Oghren laughed and there was a chorus of groans that made her laugh.

“When have I ever turned anyone down?” she laughed.

“Never,” Alistair sighed, “though sometimes I really wished you would.”

“Sounds like a personal problem,” she shrugged causing Oghren to laugh.

They continued through the Deep Roads, traversing the underground pathways towards Cadash Thaig, and ended up getting there faster than she’d have thought.

“This is it,” Shayle said touching the wall of the entrance, “Cadash Thaig.”

Actually… they probably couldn’t take a boat… Shayle would likely sink any boat she tried to board.

“This is where you’re from?” she asked.

“Perhaps… it may also be where I was found,” Shayle answered, “these ruins are always overrun by vermin… there may be something noteworthy further in, however.”

“I wish I brought along that journal Wilhelm had,” she sighed, “rather than simply leafing through it… I wonder if it’s still in Honnleath…”

“Why does it want the journal of my former master?” Shayle asked.

“It had something on when you began acting strangely,” she replied a hand on her cheek in thought, “he wasn’t sure if it was due to his experimentation of you, or his uh… interactions? With a demon he summoned… I forgot why he summoned a demon. All I remember is thinking ‘I understand curious minds and such, but some things are best left alone.’… and then I happily threw that thought out the window and reactivated you anyway.”

“We tried to stop her,” Wynne commented dryly, “but she is just too uncontrollable.”

“Well, I had a good feeling about it, nyaa,” she replied.

“Was this a home, once?” Shayle asked as they walked forward, “did I live here?”

“Perhaps,” she replied, “perhaps… you returned here after parting ways with Caridin.”

“Well… I see nothing now,” Shayle sighed, “whatever was once here is gone.”

“There’s more to see yet,” she pointed out.

Deepstalkers suck, and she just stomped on their heads, kicking their necks to break them, and snapping the necks of the ones that lunged at her in her hands.

“Crawling with filth,” Shayle said after more deepstalkers attacked them, “typical.”

“Well… this is the Deep Roads,” she sighed, “I’m going to need new shoes soon… maybe I should have worn boots… nah… too restraining.”

“You don’t even like your clothes restraining you?” Sten asked.

“Of course,” she replied, “I need my flexibility.”

“Darkspawn,” Alistair cautioned.

“I am uncertain what I hope to find, here,” Shayle commented.

“That’s the fun part,” she replied, “not knowing what to expect… anything we find will honestly just be a pleasant surprise.”

Darkspawn were preferable to deepstalkers because they were far easier to kill… Oghren seemed to have a much easier time fighting them, likely because he was closer to the ground than she was.

“What is this? This… this I remember,” Shayle said placing her hand on a large statue, “it has dates and names… this is to honor those who volunteered, those who became golems.”

“Pleasant surprise it is, then,” she mused.

“And there is my name… Shayle of House Cadash. Just as Caridin said,” Shayle said in wonderment, “I remember now. I remember Shayle… that… was me.”

“So, what now?” she asked.

“I will need to think on these things I have learned…” Shayle replied, “perhaps I will speak to it of them soon… For now, let us carry on as we have.”

“To the surface!” she cheered.

***

His Warden blossomed under the sunlight like a flower blooms to greet the sun. Truly, she was meant to live on the surface where she could gaze at the clouds in the sky and the stars at night… They would be returning to Denerim eventually… perhaps he should try to track down the members of her family, to learn what she was not telling him.

In secret, of course.

“Give me a moment,” Oghren sighed.

“Sure, take your time,” Kallian replied.

“By the Stone,” Oghren replied staring at the sky, “I feel like I’m about to fall off the world with all that sky up there.”

“Is it that strange?” Kallian asked.

“Strange? Ha… Strange is your wife turning out to prefer the ladies,” Oghren laughed, “not living in a world without a bleeding ceiling… Well, let’s get moving. We’re losing… whatchacallit? Daylight.”

“That is indeed the saying, yes,” he replied.

“We’ll head to the Circle, first, I think,” Kallian nodded, “and then come back to deliver things… and then head to Redcliffe.”

Things likely meaning their lyrium smuggling information, as well as news for Dagna.

Let’s see… he was supposed to give the lyrium to a man named Godwin… if memory served correct, he was the one who had hid in the closet when the Tower was under attack.

“By the way, Kallian,” Oghren said, “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Okay?” Kallian replied tilting her head to the side as they began traveling towards the Circle.

“You and I, we’ve…” Oghren replied, “you know how sometimes, you spend time with… people, and things… hm.”

“D’awwww… I love you too, Oghren,” Kallian cooed.

“Ha! Well, I’ll be shaved, skinned, and hung up to dry!” Oghren laughed, “it’s too soon, though, lady. Too soon.”

“Well… I meant it platonically anyway,” Kallian quirked a brow at the Dwarf, “just like I love everyone else platonically…”

“I just wanted to ask a favor,” Oghren replied.

“Sure, what’s up?” Kallian asked.

“I was thinking, I do know some people out here on the surface… A person, actually. Girl I knew in Orzammar,” Oghren replied, “before I left, obviously.”

“Who is she?” Kallian asked.

“Her name’s Felsi. She and I were… friends after Branka left for the Deep Roads,” Oghren explained, “I’m sure she’s forgiven me by now. Thought maybe I’d track her down. See how she’s been living.”

“What is she doing on the surface, my fine Dwarven friend?” he asked.

“What? Why are you asking me? I didn’t do anything,” Oghren replied, “last I heard, she was going to live with her Mother on the surface. Near some… lake. Cleanbad Lake, was it? Ah, sod it, I don’t remember.”

“Ah! You mean Lake Calenhad,” Kallian said after a bit of thought, “we’re actually headed there.”

“No, I think it was Cleanbad,” Oghren replied with a laugh, “I remember because I thought: ‘Yes, that’s right. Dirty good, clean bad.’.”

…Someone was willing to bed the Dwarf? Willingly? And not out of obligation?

He knew there were people who would have loved to bed either him or his Warden… though his Warden tended to draw more gazes than he did. Such was how things went, as she was a strong and confident Elven woman who bowed to no one and spared no one unworthy of her attention even the briefest of glances. Some gazed at her in awe, some gazed at her with the desire to break her, and tear her down.

Of course, their lifespans were cut considerably short if they even so much as tried… she was not a woman who could be either controlled or tamed and truly, she never should be. It was part of her allure.

But that someone was willing to bed the Dwarf came as a surprise.

Perhaps Dwarven standards were simply… lower?

“I would have thought saving the surface would have involved less walking,” Oghren commented.

“Little legs getting tired?” he asked.

“I thought these people had animals,” Oghren replied, “horses and such.”

“In Orlais, perhaps, but not here,” he replied, “if you like, I could hoist you up on my back.”

“Hey now, don’t start with the—” he quickly cut the Dwarf off.

“Yes, climb up, and I’ll cart you around like a child!” he said, “marvelous fun!”

“You knife-eared pipe-cleaner,” Oghren replied, “you couldn’t carry me on your best day.”

“Mmm… perhaps if you left behind the spirits,” he replied in thought, “all the weapons, and lost about two feet of beard…”

“Ach, I give up,” Oghren huffed, “just keep walking.”

“Ah, if you approach Annie with a saddle one more time,” Kallian said, “she’ll bite your throat out.”

Diana gave a bark of agreement.

“Can she even get through his beard?” Wynne asked.

“I dunno,” Kallian shrugged, “but she asked me for permission, and I was only half paying attention and accidentally said ‘yes’.”

“Are you sure you’re fine with what happened with Branka?” Alistair asked.

“Oh, sure, I’m fine with it,” Oghren replied with a hint of sarcasm, “I mean, she was a real firebrand between the sheets, but a bit soft in the skull, you know what I mean? Explains why she left, anyway.”

“I imagine she wasn’t that crazy when she left,” he replied.

“Oh, you don’t know her. She was cracked like a glass floor, before she was a Paragon, I mean. After that she really fell apart,” Oghren replied, “I mean, she leaves me and flits about with that watered tart, Hespith. What’s she got that I don’t?”

“Indeed,” he replied, “what _does_ she have that you do not?”

“Just the thought of the two of them together, kissing, licking, intertwined on the floor of the Deep Roads…” Oghren trailed off, “ummm…”

“I think this is a good time to set up camp,” Kallian laughed.

***

They made it to Lake Calenhad fairly quickly, probably because they were far more familiar with the roads they used to get there. She was planning on leaving Oghren here to talk to Felsi while she crossed the Lake to go talk to Irving and Godwin. They planned it so that she would talk to Irving, while he snuck away to deliver the smuggled lyrium to Godwin.

“There she is!” Oghren said, “I’m gonna go talk to her… look, you gotta back me up here, got it?”

Hmmm? He was… asking her to be his wingman?

“What do you mean, ‘back you up’?” she asked.

“Just… follow my lead,” Oghren replied, “you know?”

Yep, she was wingmanning for him.

“Are you sure you wanna ask me for this and not Zevran? I’m sure he has far more experience in this field than I,” she replied in amusement, “even Alistair might be a better choice.”

“I wouldn’t trust either of them,” Oghren replied.

“Ah, I see, I’ll pretend to be an Elven servant, then,” she replied, “go get ‘er.”

“Just be ready to pry her off when she throws herself at me. We don’t want to make a scene here,” Oghren replied, “well, don’t pry her off me _too soon_. I mean, a little scene’s alright.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” she replied with a salute.

She changed her demeanor to one more befitting of a servant as Oghren walked up to Felsi, and she followed two steps behind.

“Are you sure you’re not a baker?” Oghren asked, “’cause you’ve got a sodding nice set of buns.”

Oh man… that was… she really wanted to laugh.

“Oghren?” Felsi asked with a frown, “is that you?”

“Yeah, in the flesh, baby,” Oghren replied.

“What are you doing here?” Felsi asked.

“Just trying to kick back with a pint,” Oghren answered, “fighting Darkspawn’s a lot of sodding work, you know?”

“ _You’re_ fighting Darkspawn?” Felsi asked.

“And more,” she replied, “this man took on an army of golems almost single-handed!”

“It was a bit of a pain, but,” Oghren replied, “it was a personal favor for the King of Orzammar, you understand.”

“Indeed it was,” she nodded.

“The whole surface to choose from,” Felsi asked, “and you just _happened_ to come to my tavern?”

“Er… well…” Oghren replied.

“Tell her it was fate,” she murmured quietly.

“What? Oh, right,” Oghren asked quietly before picking up the hint, “it’s fate, Felsi. What can I say?”

“Fate?” Felsi asked, “the Ancestors must have a sense of humor, then.”

“Sure they do! You’ve had a good look at Lady Helmi, haven’t you?” Oghren asked, “if her face isn’t a joke the Ancestors are playing, I’m a bronto’s behind.”

“So… Lady Helmi must be a Paragon of Beauty, then,” Felsi sighed.

“Tell her you’ve been thinking about her,” she murmured quietly.

“I’ve been thinkin’ about you, Felsi,” Oghren said.

“What do you want, Oghren?” Felsi asked in exasperation.

But she hasn’t told him to fuck off… maybe insults were their thing? Affectionate insults, she understood that… considering she called Shianni, Bitch Tits, Soris, Oldie, and Alistair, Ali-butt.

“Nothin’. Just thought I’d see how you were doing, is all,” Oghren replied, “well, maybe that and grease up the bronto, if you know what I mean.”

“Well, you’ve seen me,” Felsi replied, “you’ll have to go back to Orzammar for the bronto.”

“Admit it,” she commented, “Oghren is much more fun than the men around here.”

“If by, ‘fun’ you mean, ‘more likely to light farts on fire’, then yes,” Felsi replied.

“Ah well,” Oghren sighed, “it’s been fun, Felsi, but I better go.”

“Wait! You’re leaving?” Felsi asked stopping them, “you just got here. I haven’t called you a shaft-rat yet…”

“Oh, you can’t keep the Archdemon waiting,” Oghren replied, “you hurt its feelings, it just might turn the whole Blight around and go home. Nobody wants that.”

She would actually love that.

“Well… you don’t need to fight it right now, do you?” Felsi asked, “I mean, you could have a pint first. You could call me a surly bronto, I could tell you that you smell like nug droppings…”

“I tell you what, I’ve got something I gotta do, but I’ll come back for that pint when things’re settled,” Oghren replied, “you frigid deepstalker.”

“Fine,” Felsi replied, “but you’d better not keep me waiting, you worthless copper-plated Sword-Caste.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Oghren replied as they left.

She was glad that it was still early enough in the day that they could get across the lake to the Tower and then start trekking to Orzammar right after… it would have looked pathetic if they stayed at the inn for the night.

Though, how did Dwarves know what dreams were? That thing she read really must have been wrong… unless they figured out the concept of dreams when dealing with the surface… Yeah, that was far more likely.

“Heh,” Oghren said after they left, “I still got it.”

“So what are you leaving for?” she asked, “go get her.”

“Don’t you know anything about women?” Oghren asked, “you gotta make them wait… play hard to get.”

“…I see,” she replied glancing down at her bound breasts.

“Might as well rest up while I can,” Oghren replied, “you ready to go?”

“Let’s,” she nodded.

They moved towards the dock, where Oghren paused.

“Have I ever mentioned I can’t swim?” Oghren asked.

“No,” she replied shaking her head, “but don’t worry, I’m a strong swimmer.”

It was true, in her last life, her favorite type of water to swim in was actually slightly choppy, and she’ll always be an Island Girl by heart…

You can take a girl out of Hawai’i, but you can’t take the Hawai’i out of a girl.

Sten, Morrigan, Shayle, and Diana stayed behind… they brought Oghren because if Felsi saw him dawdling outside the inn, she’d likely make fun of him. Once they were inside, she saw Zevran slip away further into the Tower.

“Welcome back, Kallian,” Irving said greeting her, “you’ll be glad to learn that the Circle is well on its way to recovery.”

“That’s wonderful news,” she smiled.

“Irving,” Wynne said, “there was a young lady named Dagna that we met in Orzammar who wishes to study magic.”

“Orzammar? Indeed? You have piqued my curiosity,” Irving replied in slight shock, “it is common knowledge that Dwarves lack the… aptitude for spellcraft. She will never be able to weave the simplest magic, no matter how hard she tries.”

…Her sheltered Alienage life was truly showing.

“She’s aware of this,” she replied, “but her interest has not waned.”

“Fascinating… I suppose the Circle should be flattered,” Irving replied.

“She wants to learn,” Wynne replied, “and I think that that is a worthy goal.”

“I cannot deny anyone, Elf, Dwarf, or Human, the chance to learn… Knowledge should not be withheld from those who seek it,” Irving replied, “tell Dagna, of Orzammar, that this path will not be easy, but if she chooses it, then she is welcome here at the Circle… She will live and study with the Tranquil and perhaps the apprentices when it is appropriate.”

“She’s going to be so overjoyed,” she chuckled.

“Ah, if only the Circle were in better shape,” Irving sighed, “I fear she may be disappointed when she arrives.”

“Truthfully,” she replied wryly, “I think she’ll be very interested in what happened.”

“This will be interesting… she could tell us much about our Dwarven neighbors,” Irving replied in thought, “yes, the more I think about it, the more I like the idea… I shall take this as an indication that perhaps things are starting to look up for the Circle… Thank you.”

“No, thank _you_ First Enchanter,” she replied shaking her head as she noticed Zevran return, “we should head back to Orzammar with the good news then… Till next we meet.”

Good, all they had to do was return to Rogek in Orzammar then.

“I wish you well,” Irving replied, “and know that you will always be welcome here.”

“What?” Elroy asked, “you’re not even going to stay for a chat?”

“Nope, this and that happened,” she replied waving a sleeve around, “be good, and see you later… provided I don’t die before then, nya-nya.”

***

He was a little upset that they weren’t going to Redcliffe immediately… he missed Elissa.

He knew that Zevran was in a far more pitiful state than he was since he was so close, yet still so far. He could see her, and interact with her, but nothing beyond that, but it still didn’t seem fair that the assassin got to travel along with the woman he adored. Though, honestly, if he were in his position, he’d probably be miserable.

…Why was Kallian holding herself back?

Though, it probably wasn’t his place to bring that topic up.

“So, Oghren,” Kallian said, “how do you like the surface?”

“It’s sodding great… At first, I was a little queasy, with all that air, but… there’s just so much of it!” Oghren replied, “no one has any idea who you are. Or what you’re doing… and the ale! Who’d have thought, ale made with grain!”

“And there’s far more than just ale,” Kallian replied, “I can guarantee that, as a fellow booze enthusiast.”

“Aye… The surface is great,” Oghren replied, “it’s like a big, bright world of filth without a ceiling… my kind of place.”

“But is it very strange for you, my friend,” Zevran said, “living in the world of the tall?”

“Here I thought I was living in the world of the nosy and the stupid,” Oghren replied.

“It just occurred to me: chairs are too high, tables are out of reach,” Zevran replied, “using the toilet facilities alone must be a lesson in humility.”

“I’m not bloody two feet tall, you swishy nug-licker!” Oghren glowered.

“And then the light!” Zevran continued, “after all that gloom of Orzammar and the Deep Roads, it’s a wonder you don’t wander about squinting in pain.”

“It is bright,” Oghren replied, “I’ll give you that.”

“And… oh! Not to have a roof over your head!” Zevran replied, “you must constantly fear that you’ll fall up into that vast endlessly open sky.”

“Uhh…” Oghren replied.

“One day you live within the surety of a mountain, and then gone!” Zevran added, “nothing but vacuum, nothing to stop you from being sucked up into the voice, nothing t—”

“Stop!” Oghren roared, “one more word and I chop you down where you stand!”

“You are a brave, brave little soldier, my friend,” Zevran replied.

“You can’t fall up into the sky,” Kallian replied dryly, “for the same reason something drops to the ground when you let go of it… I mean I weigh way less than you, if I haven’t floated off into the abyss, then you won’t either.”

“That’s true,” he nodded, “she did jump into the sky… only to come crashing back down into a High Dragon’s skull.”

“That was fun!” Kallian replied happily, “I’d like to do it again sometime.”

“Well, you’ll have another shot at it,” he replied, “when we get to the Archdemon.”

“True!” Kallian replied, “in any case, we should be back in Orzammar in roughly another day… Are they gonna give you shit for returning, Oghren?”

“Bah… doesn’t matter if they do or don’t,” Oghren replied, “I’m a surfacer now.”

“Plus, I’m fairly certain that they gave him a hard time before he left Orzammar,” he commented.

“True…” Kallian replied, “still, we shouldn’t be there long, just long enough to tell Dagna the good news.”

***

Was there anything else they needed to do in Orzammar? Thinking about it, should they greet Bhelen? Would he be mad at them for going into the city without visiting him?

…What was the proper protocol for these situations?

She’ll just quickly pop into the city, and then pop back out… Alistair really wants to get back to Redcliffe, since he hasn’t seen Elissa in weeks…

“Hello, how can I— it’s you!” Dagna said in surprised glee as Zevran moved off towards Dust Town, “and it’s been… well, quite a while. Enough time to get to the Circle and back, I hope?”

“Yes, sorry it took us so long,” she replied.

“It’s okay, considering that you settled the matters of the throne in Orzammar,” Dagna replied, “oh, please tell me what they said.”

“First Enchanter Irving would be pleased to have you study alongside them,” she replied brightly.

“Ancestors bless you, I can’t believe it!” Dagna cheered while giving her a hug, “there hasn’t even been a Dwarven observer in the Circle since Ureldin in the thirteenth century!”

Soft… she was incredibly jealous… she was confident in her own looks but damn… she wanted nice tits too.

“Well, you better get to believing it,” she replied.

“Uh… I— I need to pack… No, my parents would get suspicious… I need to _go_ ,” Dagna replied, “is there anything I should bring? Books? Tuition?”

“You’re running away from home?” she asked in shock.

“My parents would never let me leave Orzammar,” Dagna explained, “I’ll be stripped of my caste but…”

“You don’t have to bring anything, then,” she replied, “they need every ally they can get.”

“Then I should go…” Dagna replied, “before my parents come looking for me.”

“You should at least leave them a letter,” she replied, “so they know where you went.”

“I… suppose you’re right,” Dagna replied and she handed the Dwarven woman paper, ink, and a quill, “I’ll… leave it somewhere where they can find it.”

“Mm,” she nodded approvingly as she noticed Zevran return from Dust Town.

“If you ever go to the Circle again,” Dagna said, “maybe I’ll see you there.”

“Of course,” she replied, “tell Elroy he’s an idiot for me.”

“I will,” Dagna replied before leaving, “and thank you so much.”

“Of course,” she said waving before squatting down and covering her face.

Did she do the right thing there? Sure, she wanted to study, but she was abandoning her family… not even telling them that she was leaving… Should she go apologize to her Father? Agghhhh.

“What is wrong, my dear Warden?” Zevran asked.

“I didn’t think she’d just leave without telling her family,” she replied, “arghhhh… did I do good? Bad? Which?”

“Well, it’s too late to worry about it now,” Wynne replied.

“True,” she sighed, “let’s just… return to Redcliffe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Tao Te Ching Chapter Seventy-Six_


	51. How the Cat Traveled to Denerim for the Landsmeet

_Nothing in the world is softer or weaker than water_  
_Yet nothing is better at overcoming the hard and strong_  
_This is because nothing can replace it_  
_That the weak overcomes the strong_  
_And the soft overcomes the hard_  
_Everybody in the world knows_  
_But cannot put into practice_  
_Therefore sages say:_  
_The one who accepts the humiliation of the state_  
_Is called its master_  
_The one who accepts the misfortune of the state_  
_Becomes king of the world_  
_The truth seems like the opposite._

Half a week to Redcliffe… probably.

She felt a little bad… considering Elissa was probably just as eager to see Alistair again as he was.

…Why does she have a note that says 9:13 Dragon?

It was… something she was supposed to be thinking about… right? But for what reason?

“Hey, Ali-butt,” she asked, “do you know why I would write down 9:13 Dragon? I feel like it was important…”

“…Can’t say I remember,” Alistair replied.

“You read something inside of the Deep Roads that said that the Blight had been building for seventeen years,” Sten replied, “how did you forget?”

“Easily, it seems,” she replied brightly, “that’s right and I was trying to figure out what Flemeth meant by ‘this Blight’s threat is greater than they realize’…”

What could she have meant? Was there something else behind the Blight? That led the Darkspawn to the Archdemon? Unlikely, because they hear the voice of the Archdemon, and follow it like children had followed the Pied Piper… Wait, actually, didn’t that fit in with one of her earlier theories? What was it again? That the Archdemon wasn’t the only thing behind the Blight? Yeah, that… Hmm…

“Yep, I got nothin’,” she shrugged.

“You were only thinking on it for a minute, at most,” Alistair replied dryly.

“It takes me like ten to twenty seconds to weigh our sins against someone else’s,” she replied just as dryly, “so considering that I already had a thought foundation to go off of, what makes you think I needed more than a minute?”

“You— oh, right,” Alistair replied, “you speculated that there might be something more behind the Blight than just the Archdemon… Though I suppose now, that proves it.”

“No, it doesn’t,” she replied shaking her head, “we can neither truly prove nor disprove it… therefore, the variable is instead, still, at this moment, unknown.”

“What?” Alistair asked, “oh! Because Darkspawn instinctually move towards Old Gods in order to spread their Taint to them.”

“Mmhm… so if we can neither prove nor disprove it, it’s unknown,” she nodded.

Honestly, her love of science had fueled her love of the occult, since in truth, there were many things that science couldn’t prove as fact because they were things that you couldn’t do consistent experimentation on, and therefore, science had no fucking clue about it… though people did like to say that it was a definite ‘no’. Knowing that the world is still full of mystery despite such logical and methodical experimentation honestly made it that much more interesting to her. The world was still full of surprises… truth is stranger than fiction, but only because fiction is based on weird-ass truth.

Though, in regards to horror… sometimes authors and such need to touch up their stories because the reality of it is much, much, much too dark…

“You never did answer my question,” Zevran commented watching Oghren drink deeply, “about that filth you so enjoy.”

“That’s right,” Oghren replied, “I didn’t.”

“How is it that you never seem to run out?” Zevran asked, “are you purchasing it somewhere?”

“Bah,” Oghren scoffed, “nobody sells the good stuff.”

“Then are you making it? I don’t see a still at camp… and you aren’t walking around with a keg, so unless you’re,” Zevran trailed off, “oh no…”

“What?” Oghren asked, “where is that perverted Elven mind of yours gone?”

“That… would explain the smell…” Zevran sighed, “suddenly I’m not so interested in trying a sample…”

She had no idea where Zevran’s head went with that… she really didn’t, though it probably wasn’t what he thought it was… whatever it was that he thought it was. Oghren was pretty particular about his spirits, of course, both she and Zevran were also rather particular about their booze… Plus, Wynne seemed to have no qualms sampling his ale.

What she wouldn’t give for a good cup of sake right now…

“I wanted to thank the Superior Warden,” Shayle said, “for giving Caridin the end he wanted, and I am pleased to have been a part of it.”

“Well, it was the right thing to do,” she replied with a grin, “plus, you had faith in him, and I wasn’t going to let you down.”

“I… I am pleased, then,” Shayle replied, “I had no idea that that was part of the reason that it did that.”

“Of course,” she replied, “we’re practically family.”

“It… has occurred to me that I have been…” Shayle sighed, “excuse me, this is not easy.”

“Take your time,” she replied.

“It occurs to me that I have been,” Shayle replied as if talking through her teeth, “less than _charitable_ with it since it reanimated me.”

“For good reason, I think,” she replied, “considering Wilhelm.”

“I have come to realize that it has been good to me… _you_ have been good to me,” Shayle replied, “even though you had no control rod to enforce obedience.”

“We should reactivate every golem we find,” she replied clenching her fist, “and then destroy the control rods… maybe even sneak into Orzammar and destroy all the control rods…”

“You have always had wonderful ideas,” Shayle replied with amusement, “I have… never had one before, so I don’t know how to… thank you. For being… you know.”

“Your favoritest soft squishy flesh creature?” she offered.

“Yes,” Shayle laughed, “I followed you expecting to find answers to my questions, but I think I have found something better.”

“Does that mean I get to be called ‘you’ now?” she asked.

“No. It’s a one-time thing,” Shayle replied causing her to laugh, “I don’t want to raise its expectations to unrealistic levels, after all.”

“I’m honored, Shayle,” she chuckled.

“Now, let us not speak of this awkward bonding moment ever again,” Shayle replied.

“As you wish,” she smiled.

“So, tell me Shayle,” Zevran said butting into their conversation as he sat down next to her, “if you had the opportunity to become flesh, would you take it?”

“It does seem rather preoccupied with this topic,” Shayle replied dryly.

“Humor me,” Zevran replied, “would you choose to live? To breathe the air and taste of flesh? Or would you remain the immortal stone that you are?”

“Would I also get to age, and bleed, and become sick, and die?” Shayle asked.

“Of course,” Zevran answered, “these are the things we accept for the blessing of being what we are.”

“Then no thank you,” Shayle replied, “I have no need of such frailties.”

“You were once a Dwarven woman… with dreams and passions and all the rest,” Zevran replied causing her to frown, “does that hold no sway for you?”

“Why would I wish to be that woman again?” Shayle asked, “she gave up her body, willingly.”

“And what of family? Of children?” Zevran asked, “life does not begin and end with yourself.”

She suddenly had the feeling that Zevran secretly wanted children… it was a topic he tended to bring up every once in a while… Actually… perhaps what he wanted was a family… Since he asked Morrigan about other Witches of the Wilds… Then again, she could be both remembering wrong or over-analyzing.

And it’s not like it was something that concerned her.

She did feel sorry for whoever he falls in love with next, though… why did that thought bother her? People move on, that’s how things work, in fact, it’ll be better if he does.

Why are emotions so hard?

“I… have no desire to produce offspring,” Shayle replied.

“Your form is wondrous, that’s true,” Zevran nodded, “but while you do not suffer the lows of life, you also do not experience the highs. It is something to consider.”

“It is nothing to consider,” Shayle replied, “what it speaks of is impossible.”

She pushed Zevran off of the log they were sitting on.

“That was mean,” she frowned, “also, Shayle’s dreams and passions were likely to kill a bunch of Darkspawn and protect Orzammar… it’s fine for them to acquire new dreams and passions… such as eradicating all pigeons… and as for children, sure, they may not be able to have any of their own, but that doesn’t mean that they can’t spiritually have them.”

“You didn’t have to push me,” Zevran replied dryly sitting back down on the log, “but I suppose you have a point.”

“Of course I have a point. I always have a point,” she replied, “whether it’s a good one or not, on the other hand, is an entirely different matter.”

“Ach! Leliana, get this stupid beast out of here!” Oghren complained.

“I am sorry, Oghren,” Leliana replied scooping her nug up, “was he disturbing you?”

“No, but if he isn’t careful, I’m going to start thinking about how delicious he looks,” Oghren replied, “a little taste of home, eh?”

“Um… I will make sure Schmooples is never underfoot again,” Leliana replied.

“Schmooples? You named a nug Schmooples?” Oghren replied, “the last thing we need around here is a walking snack named Schmooples!”

There really was never a dull moment here, considering the sheer amount of people trying to get under each other’s skin. She really did feel like the Mother of the group sometimes… 

The Mom-Friend…

Well, parents do tend to die before their young.

***

His Warden had clearly not been impressed with his talk with Shayle if her rather solid shove had had anything to say about it.

Though, thinking about it, the thought of children did charm him… Well, provided that Mother of his children was the owner of a pair of emerald eyes that were currently glued to a book. He leaned over a bit to see what she was reading, though the sentence he read was… interesting, to say the least.

_He laughed as his knife sliced through her flesh, separating muscle from sinew…_

She turned the page.

“Are you in a bad mood, my dear Warden?” he asked.

“Not particularly, why?” Kallian asked in return.

“Then you are simply…” he trailed off, “in the mood for gore?”

Her interests never ceased to either amaze, surprise or intrigue him… sometimes even all three. Then again, he did like her macabre interests. It was fascinating how dark her darker side truly was… Here was a woman who was the very embodiment of compassion, kindness, and caring… enjoying a gore-y book about a crazed murderer.

“Yep,” Kallian replied, “though part of the reason I get moods for these things is because… when the villain gets what’s coming for them, it’s such a rush, y’know?”

“A rush?” he asked raising a brow.

“Mm… making sure people pay for their crimes,” Kallian replied with a grin, “I can really identify with it.”

“Ah… yes, you did enjoy life as a vigilante, yes?” he asked.

“Yep,” Kallian nodded, “though, in truth, fiction will never ever be able to even remotely delve the dark places that reality does… some people are monsters, and in order to end the worst of them, you have to be worse then they are.”

“Oh? And why is that?” he asked.

“So that you can see the signs,” Kallian replied, “you can tell between an assassin and not, can’t you? Professional from ruffian? The way they carry themselves, look at people, move, act… I see them, investigate, judge, and then eliminate knowing that at any second, I can become worse than them. A balancing act on the world's deadliest tight rope.”

“You really don’t mince words about that, do you?” Alistair asked.

“Of course not,” Kallian replied simply, “if I did… if I pretended I did it for some noble purpose or something it’d be easy to get carried away.”

“I’ve never had to worry about getting carried away,” he commented, “with killing, that is… sex, on the other hand, is a much different story.”

“That’s because you kill for money, the enjoyment that you feel coming from it is a secondary reward,” Kallian replied glossing over that second part, “me, on the other hand? I do it because watching people get away with shit like that pisses me off…no one’s paying me, I’m doing it because I _want_ to… the payment is an anchor for you. Assassinations are your career, it's what lines your pockets… Vigilantes don’t get paid, it’s an entirely egotistical self-righteous action done for the satisfaction of knowing that the life of the one who had hurt so many others is in your hands and that you will end them like the pigs they are… there is no anchor… all there is, is self-gratification.”

His Warden really didn’t pretty up what she did, she knew the risks and took them anyway in order to protect those dear to her. He remembered unhinged laughter, emerald eyes shining with fury, blood-red hair wild as she painted a scene of absolute malice. Her biggest fear, was actually herself, not losing her freedom, but descending into madness.

The monster who hunts those who prey on others…

Thinking about it… Taliesen… they will likely run into him soon… He hopes that his former lover will reach out to him first, will approach him and ask him to double-cross the Wardens behind their backs… since at least that way, his Warden won’t have to watch him deal with someone he had once cared for greatly. And if he can keep her from finding out about it, then perhaps he can also stop her from blaming herself over the matter… as that seemed to be something she was incredibly prone to do.

He wished she would stop blaming herself over the thousands of things that weren’t her fault… it was her worst and most self-destructive habit. A habit borne from the sheer amount she loved and cared for others… she was her own enemy in many ways. Her past failures to save others fueled her strength, speed, and skill, yes, but it still harmed her all the same.

She had called his heart gentle, but truly, his was nowhere near as gentle as hers.

“Oh, care to join me in my sodding hole?” Oghren asked as his Warden grabbed a bottle of cider.

“Something bothering you?” Kallian asked.

“I don’t know… I just… I guess we’re pretty good friends now, right?” Oghren asked and Kallian nodded, “I just… I keep thinking about all that slag with Branka, how I’ve turned out. I always said I was this way because she left, but I think maybe… she left because of how I am.”

“Perhaps she underestimated you, then,” Kallian replied and he almost choked on his own drink.

“No, she just… estimated me. She knew how I was, and because of that, she left without me,” Oghren sighed, “worked out in my favor, though. I’m here fighting the good fight and not fed to Caridin’s traps or her pet Darkspawn.”

“…You really dodged an arrow there,” Kallian nodded, “don’t fuck it up with Felsi… though I doubt she’ll go crazy like that… from what I could tell she’s got a good head on her shoulders.”

She couldn’t have _that_ good a head on her shoulders if she had considerations to willingly bedding the Dwarf.

***

They were about a day away from Redcliffe now, which was good news considering how antsy Alistair was being. Though, she also felt bad for making Sten wait so long to reunite with his sword.

She couldn’t wait until this whole thing was over and done with… partially because then she wouldn’t have to live on such high alert anymore. She wouldn’t have to stop herself from singing random songs in other languages, or randomly saying things in other languages. Leaving the Alienage made her more prone to slip-ups, because of the sheer amount that she was now experiencing. In the Alienage, life was _far_ more stable, and she was content with her life. But being out here really made her want to go back to those times.

She knew it had to be done, that someone had to do it… but this wasn’t the kind of life she’d wanted in either lifetimes.

Though, thinking about it… language-wise, there were some similarities… like how Antivan sounded like Italian, and Orlesian sounding French… perhaps there were other Travelers before her? It would make sense, considering some of the foods were similar as well… She wondered how they dealt with being from a different world.

“Hey, Kallian, there you are,” Oghren said walking up to her with his flask of booze, “I was thinking, we’ve been through a lot together now. We’re like… old war buddies.”

“Well, we have been through quite a lot together,” she nodded, “despite having only met maybe a month ago.”

“Right… so I figured, why not invite you to share a drink?” Oghren asked, “a drink from my own stash, my family’s recipe and dedicated to my comrades in arms.”

“I would not recom—” Zevran began.

“Ohhhh, finally!” she replied brightly cutting Zevran off, “I get to taste Oghren’s famous brew!”

“Yes!” Oghren cheered handing her the flask, “Kallian steps up!”

“Naturally,” she replied and took a drink while maintaining full eye-contact with Zevran. Though, she did feel her eyes widen in surprise… it was really yummy, but also really _really_ strong.

“You handled that like a champion, my friend. Most impressive,” Oghren laughed, “how do you feel?”

“Dangerous,” she replied, “like I’m gonna do something I shouldn’t.”

“Excellent!” Oghren continued laughing, “I— I just wanted to tell you, after all we’ve been through, you’re like family to me… Closest thing I’ve had in years.”

“D’aww, the feeling’s mutual,” she cooed.

“Aw, Kallian… I do believe I’m getting all misty-eyed,” Oghren replied, “but that could be because those beans are getting chatty, if you know what I mean.”

“Then I shall promptly vacate the area,” she laughed with a salute.

***

They finally returned to Redcliffe, and he was eager to see his sword returned to his hand… Asala… it’s been so long since he’d last had her in his hands.

“Sorry, it’s taking so long to get your sword back,” Kallian apologized.

“It cannot be helped,” he pointed out, “you are a Grey Warden trying to stop a Civil War and end a Blight.”

“…The amount of people who want me dead is shocking,” Kallian sighed.

The woman attracted assassins like moths to a flame… one of them was even currently trying to win her affection.

“Alright, then, Sten and I are gonna go pay our good friend Dwyn a visit,” Kallian declared, “we’ll meet back up with you guys somewhere later.”

“How very specific,” Morrigan sighed.

“Fine, Bella’s Tavern,” Kallian replied already walking off, “in like… I dunno? An hour?”

This time, Kallian knocked on the Dwarves door nicely, and politely waited to be invited inside.

“What do you want now?” Dwyn asked.

“We’re looking for a Qunari sword that you recently purchased,” Kallian replied.

“Now, why would you be interested in that?” Dwyn asked.

“It’s mine,” he replied.

“You know,” Dwyn sighed, “Faryn didn’t mention the giant he took it from was _alive_.”

“Name your price,” Kallian sighed.

“Six sovereigns,” Dwyn replied.

“Make it three,” Kallian replied.

“Good enough… it’s in my strongbox. Here’s the key,” Dwyn sighed as he handed her a key, “now why don’t you leave me alone?”

“Thank you, Dwyn,” Kallian replied handing the Dwarf payment.

Inside of the strongbox was his sword… something he hadn’t seen in far too long. He took the blade from Kallian, and for the first time in what seemed almost an eternity, he felt whole and complete.

“Strange… I had almost forgotten it: completion,” he said staring at Asala in awe, “are you sure you are a Grey Warden? I am certain that you must be an _ashkaari_ to find a single lost blade in a country at war.”

“What can I say? I’m good at finding things,” Kallian grinned, “what will you do now?”

It was true, she was alarmingly good at finding things from ancient relics to wayward apprentices.

“My sword is in my hand again… I should put it to use,” he replied, “and I could deliver a much more satisfying answer to the _Arishok’s_ question if the Blight were ended, don’t you agree?”

“Absolutely,” Kallian nodded.

“I have been mistaken,” he commented.

“Oh? About what?” Kallian asked.

“You are a soldier worthy to stand among the _Beresaad_ ,” he replied, “I did not think so when we first met.”

“Well… the life of a soldier wasn’t one I was anticipating,” Kallian replied wryly.

“I know,” he replied, “you missed your destiny. But it is not an entirely bad thing.”

“‘Remember that sometimes not getting what you want is a wonderful stroke of luck’,” Kallian mused, “huh…?”

“Exactly,” he nodded, “the day will come when the _Arishok_ sends us here. On that day, I will not look to find you on the battlefield.”

“Well, then I won’t look for you either,” Kallian replied, “…but if we do meet each other, then let us cross blades as equals, hm?”

“Of course,” he replied, “though there is little point in dwelling on it.”

***

She should probably make a note to tell Alistair to be wary of the Qunari after the Blight… She’ll tell Elissa, she’ll probably know how to best deal with it. Political espionage wasn’t really something she knew or cared much about, she was an Elven commoner, a vigilante. Sten was honestly one of the reasons she didn’t just straight up come out with her soul status, she was worried he’d bring whatever knowledge she dished out back to his peoples and then use it against them… Especially considering that she wouldn’t be around to help out.

As they walked towards Castle Redcliffe, she could see Dwarven soldiers from Orzammar, as well as Dalish hunters in the training yard.

“I understand you’ve acquired all the allies you could?” Eamon asked as they moved to stand in front of him, “that’s good… we can call the Landsmeet, if you are ready. I, personally, would prefer not giving Loghain time to consider, but it is up to you. I do not wish to go to Denerim unless you are with me.”

“We should leave at first light then,” Alistair nodded.

“Excellent, then I shall make the arrangements,” Eamon replied looking impressed, “we’ll set off for Denerim in the morning.”

“We’ll see you in the morning then,” she replied and moved to return to Bella’s Tavern.

A good night's sleep in a tavern bed sounded absolutely heavenly… as well as a nice hot bath…

“How was Orzammar?” Elissa asked.

“Alistair handled it splendidly,” she replied with a smile, “though I could have done without being forced into the Deep Roads for a good month.”

“You had to go into the Deep Roads?” Elissa asked.

“To find this guy's crazy late wife,” she replied jerking her thumb towards Oghren, “because they couldn’t decide who to make the King of Orzammar.”

“Why did you change your plans and go to Orzammar instead of Denerim?”

“We got ambushed by Darkspawn assassins,” Alistair answered.

“We’ve been having to have one Warden up at all times,” she added, “it sucks… admittedly, it’s one of the reasons that the Deep Roads were such a chore… also because sensing Darkspawn makes me barfy… thankfully, Alistair doesn’t feel barfy when sensing Darkspawn and was able to handle Orzammar with no issue.”

“What about the Dalish?” Elissa asked.

“I settled it…we ended a centuries-old Werewolf curse,” she answered, “Elven-Human relations are already kinda iffy… especially in regards to the Dalish, so it was best another Elf handle it.”

“Good thinking,” Elissa nodded approvingly.

“So, will you two be ring shopping when we get to Denerim?” she asked and both Alistair and Elissa spat out their drinks, and luckily, she was prepared this time and dodged the splash zone.

“KALLI!” both Alistair and Elissa roared with red faces in unison as she cackled with glee.

“No, but seriously,” she replied after they finished their coughing fits, “you should go ring shopping… the long lost son of King Maric and the Teyrna of Highever will be the strongest bid for the throne we can get… though I also have a few other things up my sleeves.”

“Like?” Elissa asked.

“And spoil the surprise?” she asked, “I think not.”

***

They would be entering the city in a few hours, and he was glad that he wouldn’t have to wear a disguise while in the city anymore. The gunk Kallian put on his face always made his nose itchy, and he couldn’t scratch at his face since he’d run the risk of messing it up and facing the wrath of his fellow Warden.

Who was frantically putting on a disguise.

“You know, you don’t have to wear a disguise anymore,” he commented.

 _“You_ , may not, but _I_ do,” Kallian replied checking over her face in a hand-held mirror before braiding her hair and setting it into a hat.

“Why do you have to?” he asked.

“I’m fairly certain I’ve told you that I’m not comfortable walking around outside of the Alienage dressed as a woman,” Kallian replied waving a sleeve around.

“Remember: Denerim is the heart and soul of Ferelden, it was the city of King Calenhad, the birthplace of Andraste… she is as stubborn as a Mabari, and as good to have on your side,” Arl Eamon said as they entered the city, “if we defeat Loghain here, the rest of the nation will follow us… by calling the Landsmeet, I’ve struck the first blow. The advantage, for the moment, is ours. He will have little choice but to show himself, to oppose us directly… He will strike back at us, the only question that remains is: how soon?”

“Probably very,” Kallian commented as they entered Arl Eamon’s estate taking off her hat and spinning it around on her index finger, “a direct immediate confrontation in order to establish some form of damage control.”

Kallian suddenly straightened herself up, as she saw Loghain come marching into the estate with two other people in tow. One of which, he remembered from Ostagar… Ser Cauthrien.

“Loghain, this is… an honor,” Eamon said, “that the regent would find time to greet me personally.”

“How could I not welcome a man so important as to call every lord in Ferelden away from his estates while a Blight claws at our land?” Loghain asked.

“The Blight is why I’m here,” Eamon replied, “with Cailan dead, Ferelden _must_ have a king to lead it against the Darkspawn.”

“Ferelden has a strong leader: its Queen,” Loghain replied, “and I lead her armies.”

“Considering Ostagar,” Kallian commented, “mayhaps we need a better general.”

“Ah, Kallian, the Grey Warden recruit,” Loghain replied looking to her, “I thought we might meet again.”

“That so?” Kallian replied.

“You have my sympathies on what happened to your order,” Loghain replied, “it is unfortunate they chose to turn against Ferelden.”

“And the families of those you sacrificed to the Darkspawn have mine,” Kallian replied, “by the way, have you ever wondered why Hurlocks, Genlocks, and Shrieks are anatomically similar to Humans, Dwarves, and Elves? I’m sure the Darkspawn are very grateful for your contribution to their cause.”

“Are you saying…?” Cauthrien gasped going pale, and all Kallian did was smile.

“You should curb your tongue,” Loghain glowered, “this is my city and no safe place to speak treason. For anyone.”

“My apologies,” Kallian replied with a smile that looked more sinister than anything.

Ah… this was likely one of the tricks she had up her sleeves.

“There is talk that your illness left you feeble, Eamon,” Loghain said, “some worry that you may no longer be fit to advise Ferelden.”

“‘Illness’? Why not call your poison by its true name?” Eamon asked, “not everyone at the Landsmeet will cast aside their loyalties as easily as you and these… sycophants.”

“How long you’ve been gone from court, Eamon!” Loghain replied, “don’t you recognize Rendon Howe, Arl of Amaranthine, and Teyrn of Highever?”

He saw Elissa bristle with rage.

“And current Arl of Denerim, since Urien’s unfortunate fate at Ostagar,” Howe added, “the regent has been… generous to those who prove loyal.”

“If by ‘generous to those who prove loyal’,” Kallian mused, “you mean ‘desperate because no one else will side with him’ then you are correct.”

Kallian sure knew how to push people's buttons and get under their skin…

“Don’t interrupt, churl,” Cauthrien snapped, “your betters are talking.”

“Enough, Cauthrien, this is not the time or place,” Loghain chastised, “I had hoped to talk you down from this rash course, Eamon. Our people are frightened: our King is dead. Our land is under siege. We must be united now, if we are to endure this crisis. Your own sister, Queen Rowan, fought tirelessly to see Ferelden restored. Would you see her work destroyed? You divide our nation and weaken our efforts against the Blight with your selfish ambitions to the throne.”

“What efforts can there be when you outlaw the Grey Wardens?” he asked, “and you betraying King Cailan?”

“Cailan depended on the Grey Warden’s prowess against the Darkspawn, and look how well that ended,” Loghain retorted, “let us speak of reality, rather than tall tales. Stories will not save us.”

“I cannot forgive what you’ve done, Loghain, perhaps the Maker can, but not I,” Eamon replied with a sigh, “our people deserve a King of the Theirin bloodline. Alistair will be the one to lead us to victory in this Blight.”

“And I would be glad to,” he replied instead of the sarcastic response he forced himself to swallow.

“The Emperor of Orlais also thought I could not bring him down,” Loghain stated getting into Arl Eamon’s face, “expect no more mercy than I showed him. There is nothing I would not do for my homeland.”

Loghain stomped his way out of Arl Eamon’s estate bringing his lackeys with him.

“Well, that was… bracing,” Eamon sighed, “I didn’t expect Loghain to show himself quite so soon.”

“How long have you known him?” Kallian asked.

“My sister married King Maric while he was still in exile, at that time, he and Loghain were inseparable,” Eamon recounted, “the wild prince who’d never seen the inside of a castle, and the farmer’s son. When Loghain joined Maric’s rebels, he was just a rawboned boy… but he got on one knee to swear that he would see Ferelden free or die trying…”

“You sound like you admire him,” he replied.

“He made us a free people once more,” Eamon replied, “you can’t know what it was like to grow up as a vassal in your own land while poncy little Orlesians minced around in their silks… I would never have believed he would do anything but what was best for Ferelden.”

“Oh, that’s actually something I’m _very_ well versed on,” Kallian replied, “one of the worst kinds of oppression really… especially when they have zero regard for the sanctity of the land.”

He had a feeling that she wasn’t talking about Elves, but if he asked her about it, she'd just dodge the question.

“We need eyes and ears in the city,” Eamon replied, “Loghain has been here for months… the roots of all his schemes must begin here. The sooner we find them, the better we can turn them to our advantage. Go have a look around and see what you can turn up. Better yet, find the nobles who have arrived for the Landsmeet. Test the waters, see how many will support us.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got eyes and ears all over Denerim,” Kallian replied waving a sleeve around, “I just have to check up with them.”

“Excellent… then when you’re ready to talk strategy, come upstairs to my sitting room,” Eamon replied, “we can lay out our plans for the Landsmeet then.”

“Of course,” he nodded.

“Teyrn of Highever?!” Elissa hissed angrily, “he made that wretched snake the Teyrn of Highever!?”

“So it would seem,” Kallian sighed shaking her head.

“Please tell me you have a way of _destroying_ them,” Elissa replied turning to her.

“Don’t worry about the mice,” Kallian replied waving a sleeve around.

“The mi—” Elissa began.

“It means they’re already on her hit list,” he explained interrupting her, “a cat’s job is to deal with mice.”

“Anyway, time to go do what I do best,” Kallian replied already wandering off while shoving her hair back under her hat with Leliana, Zevran, and Diana in tow.

“Then I suppose _we_ ,” he commented, “should go… ring shopping?”

“You need to work on how to propose to a woman,” Elissa commented wryly, “but… I would be happy too.”

***

His Warden began masterfully sowing the seeds of discontent as she revealed the fate of women captured by the Darkspawn after sending their purchases from Wade to Arl Eamon’s estate. The woman was a master of subterfuge, though now he was also trying to figure out a way to sneak into the Alienage in order to get into contact with her family… but would they truly trust an assassin?

“Zevran, I saw you looking at that girl in town earlier,” Leliana commented, “what did you think of her?”

“My dear Leliana,” he replied, “which girl? I saw many and I watched them all… though none of them could ever compare to you, my dear Warden.”

All his Warden did was give a snort of laughter.

“You know, the one with the…” Leliana struggled for words, “with the shoes!”

“The shoes,” he replied dryly, “yes, good reference.”

“Well, she also had blond curls worn in a long braid,” Leliana added.

“A braid? Oh, that one,” he replied in recognition, “yes, I remember her.”

“So, what did you think?” Leliana asked, “you seemed quite enthralled.”

“Well, she was… quite marvelous,” he replied, “except for the butter face.”

“The butter what?” Leliana and Kallian asked in unison.

“Butter face,” he repeated, “everything’s marvelous but her face.”

“You’re terrible,” Kallian sighed.

“Indeed, you’re a bad man,” Leliana frowned.

“Also, I thought her face was fine,” Kallian commented, “though, she could do a few things differently with her make-up… and perhaps a change in hairstyles.”

“Oh?” he asked interest piqued, “I was not aware you were looking at her that closely.”

“I enjoy beauty in all forms,” Kallian replied dismissively before noticing Slim Couldry attempting to get her attention.

Stealing the Teyrn’s crown? That should be child’s play, for all three of them… and the Tears of Andraste… that sounded interesting…

While in the Gnawed Nobles, Kallian moved to report in with Ignacio, while he and Leliana stole the Crown from the Teyrn’s seneschal.

“One last mission for the Crows,” Kallian said meeting back up with them and he had a bad feeling.

“Oh? Perhaps I can take care of it on my own?” he asked.

“No,” Kallian replied furrowing her brows and then realization crossed her eyes and he cursed quietly in Antivan… she knew.

She knew why he wanted to take care of this on his own: it was likely that Taliesen would set up an ambush point somewhere near their target. Ignacio wouldn’t sell them out to Taliesen, he knew better, he knew that Taliesen stood absolutely zero chances against his Warden, and would not risk his own neck. But that didn’t mean that Taliesen wouldn’t have been able to figure out that his Warden had accepted work for the Crows, and that she had accepted this last job.

Even if he were to try to handle this quietly, at this point, it would be useless… she already knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Tao Te Ching Chapter Seventy-Eight_


	52. How the Crow Realized He Loved the Captured Cat

He was not looking forward to finishing this last job for the Crows… would they run into Taliesen before? Or after? It didn’t matter, either way his Warden would know. Even if Taliesen reached out to him and he dealt with him behind her back, she would still know.

And it was with a heavy heart, that he noticed the signs of a Crow trap.

He could tell that both his Warden and Leliana noticed it as well… and judging by the growling, Diana did too.

“And so here is the mighty Grey Warden at long last,” Taliesen announced, “the Crows send their greetings, once again.”

“So they sent you, Taliesen?” he asked, “or did you volunteer for the job?”

“I volunteered, of course,” Taliesen answered, “when I heard that the great Zevran had gone rogue, I simply had to see it for myself.”

“Is that so?” he asked, “well here I am, in the flesh.”

“You can return with me, Zevran,” Taliesen offered, “I know why you did this, and I don’t blame you. It’s not too late. Come back and we’ll make up a story… anyone can make a mistake.”

“Of course… Alistair and I would have to be dead, first, yeah?” Kallian asked with a sigh, “look… I don’t care whether I die or not, but I’m _not_ letting you kill Alistair, mya.”

“And _I’m_ not letting you kill her,” he added.

“What?!” Taliesen replied, narrowing his eyes, “you’ve gone soft!”

“I’m sorry, my old friend… but the answer is no,” he replied, “I’m not coming back… and you should have stayed in Antiva.”

“Figures you’d fall for another pretty face with a clever mind,” Taliesen spat, “traitor.”

“She is _far_ more than just a pretty face with a clever mind,” he retorted.

He dashed to lock blades with Taliesen, as much as it pained him, he hoped that him dealing the final blow to his former comrade would lessen the burden that had undoubtedly settled upon his Warden's heart. Though, he was slower than Leliana’s arrow… which in hindsight, was probably a better decision, and likely, Leliana figured out that Taliesen had meant something to him, and that his Warden had known. 

As a former bard, her skills of observation were on par with his.

“I think, I’ll head over to the meeting point ahead of you… since you may need a moment,” Leliana declared, “come on, Diana.”

“Thank you, Leliana,” he sighed as the two left.

“Then I—” Kallian started to follow after her but he grabbed her hand to hold her back.

“And there it is… Taliesen is dead, and I am free of the Crows,” he sighed once they were gone, “they will assume that I am dead along with Taliesen. So long as I do not make my presence known to them, they will not seek me out.”

“Indeed… congratulations,” Kallian replied with a smile, “so, with your shackles broken, and your cage wide open, where will the Crow fly now?”

A fake smile… forced smiles did not suit her.

“I do not know… it seems I have options now, whereas once I had none. I suppose it would be possible for me to leave, now, if I wished… I could go far away, somewhere where the Crows would never find me,” he replied deciding to test the waters, see how she reacted, “I think, however, that I could also stay… I made an oath to help you, after all. And saving the world seems a worthy task to see through to the end, yes?”

“You could have left ages ago, Zevran,” Kallian replied, “you still can if you’d like, nya.”

“But that is what I am asking you,” he sighed, this wasn’t the reaction he’d hoped for… he wanted her to tell him that she wanted him to stay, “do you want me to go? Do you need me here?”

“I want you to do what’s best for you,” Kallian replied, “I’ve told you this before: you’re free. You can go where you wish, do what you want… live the way you want to.”

That’s right… she had given him freedom a long time ago.

“I… am not sure how to respond to that… nobody has ever… I mean, normally these things are decided by others,” he replied dumbly, “then… I will stay… I want to stay.”

“Just… don’t forget,” Kallian replied her words turning his heart to ice, “you can’t save me.”

“Kallian… here,” he sighed pulling the earring from his pocket, “it seems an appropriate moment to give you this.”

“You don’t have to give me anything,” Kallian replied wryly, her hat made it impossible to tell if she currently wore the pin he’d once given to her.

“I may not need to, but I want to,” he replied, “I acquired it on my very first job for the Crows. A Rivaini merchant prince, and he was wearing a single, jeweled earring when I killed him. In fact, that’s about all he was wearing… I thought it was beautiful and took it to mark the occasion. I’ve kept it since… and I’d like you to have it.”

“This is a bit out of the blue, isn’t it?” Kallian asked raising a brow.

“Don’t get the wrong idea about it, you killed Taliesen,” he replied and he could see a flash of pain cross her eyes, “as far as the Crows will be concerned, I died with him. That means I’m free, at least for now. Feel free to sell it, or wear it… or whatever you’d like. It’s really the least I could give you in return.”

“Actually, Leli killed Taliesen,” Kallian corrected, “so perhaps you should give it to her?”

“No, I— look, just— just take it,” he sighed, “it’s meant a lot to me, but so have— so has what you’ve done. Please, take it.”

“No, it’s something that clearly meant a lot to you,” Kallian replied shaking her head, “and I’m not worth that.”

“You are a very frustrating woman to deal with, do you know that?” he asked irritably, “we pick up every other bit of treasure we come across, but not this… you accepted the hairpin, but not this. You don’t want the earring? You don’t get the earring. Very simple.”

“You’re right,” Kallian replied taking off her hat and removing the pin from her hair before shoving it to his chest, “that better?”

“No, that’s not what I—” he began, it felt as though she’d just stabbed him with it.

“And if I’m so damn difficult and frustrating, then maybe you _should_ go,” Kallian snapped and began walking away, “I’ve got things to do, and whatever you do now is none of my damn business.”

He was left alone in a back alley clutching the hairpin and earring that he had tried to give her.

He should have known better, should have known it was too soon… he still hasn’t learned anywhere near enough about her. Hasn’t learned enough about the pain she carried in her heart…

He was an idiot.

***

She had no idea what had happened after she had left, but Kallian and Zevran had arrived at the ambush point separately. Kallian looking irritated, and Zevran looking as though he had many regrets…

Though, Kallian’s state of irritation simply made their enemies die far quicker.

Still, what did he do? Kallian was incredibly hard to irritate, especially to this degree.

“What did you do?” she asked as Kallian went to go deal with Ignacio.

“I would rather not talk about it,” Zevran sighed.

“Okay… then I’ll just have to ask her myself,” she replied.

“Leliana… no,” Zevran replied with another sigh, “I… I will handle it when she calms down a bit more.”

“That doesn’t tell me what you did,” she pointed out.

“I made a mistake,” Zevran sighed again, “and that’s all you need to know.”

“If you say so…” she replied.

Of course, she wouldn’t stop her if Kallian decided to tell her behind his back.

“You know, Zevran,” she commented noticing Kallian bring a hand to the chain she wore around her neck as they returned to Arl Eamon’s estate, “she thinks I haven’t noticed it but… Kalli wears a ring around her neck.”

“She… what?!” Zevran asked in shock.

“From what I’ve seen, it was very well made,” she replied, “someone went through great lengths to give it to her.”

“What else do you know about it?” Zevran asked, “do you know who gave it to her? ”

“I don’t know who gave it to her, I’ve never asked her about it… it doesn’t seem like one of the things she’s willing to talk about,” she replied shaking her head, “I think she draws strength from it… so, it could also be a memento from her Mother, I suppose.”

“I see she still continues to maintain her shocking amount of secrets then,” Zevran sighed.

“Zevran… what do you feel for Kalli?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… do you love her?”

“…What?”

“Do you love her?” she repeated her question.

“I… don’t know,” Zevran replied, “how would you know such a thing?”

She thought as much… Zevran hadn’t known that he was in love with Kallian. He knew that he cared for her greatly, that he never wanted to leave her side, didn’t want to share her, enjoyed being near her, and had a tendency to be a little jealous and overprotective… but he didn’t know that the overall name of the feelings he held for her was love.

“From how I see it… Zevran,” she replied, “you are madly in love with her, and have been since you first met.”

“My dear Leliana… I grew up amongst those who sold the illusion of love,” Zevran replied, “and then I was trained to make my heart cold in favor of the kill.”

“Could you turn your heart cold in favor of killing Kalli?” she asked.

“Never.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” Zevran trailed off before realization dawned on him, “because… I’m in love with her.”

“No one chooses to fall in love, Zevran. It happens whether we want it to or not… the heart will always want what it wants,” she replied, “you need to tell her.”

“Not now,” Zevran sighed, “now is not the time…”

“Well, do it whenever it feels right,” she replied noticing that they were being called to Arl Eamon’s sitting room.

***

She let out a deep sigh.

Zevran was still with them despite her angry outburst…

She really wasn’t going to be rid of him, considering that she’d even said that what he did now wasn’t any of her business.

She hated it. 

She hated him.

She hated everything.

“Arl Eamon wants to talk to us,” Alistair commented as she got back to the estate, “by the way… didn’t you have a sword made for me? ‘Excalibur’?”

“Yeah… and I’ll give it to you when the time is right,” she nodded.

“When will the time be right?” Alistair asked.

“Dunno,” she replied as they walked into Arl Eamon’s sitting room.

“Ah, Kallian,” Eamon said greeting her, “I trust you’ve made yourself comfortable.”

“Yes,” she lied, “everything is very nice.”

She still wasn’t used to staying in luxury… she went from poverty, to being forced to travel around the countryside staying at inns only once in a while… and then to this… it was not an easy transition.

“Good, because it’s likely to be your last rest for a while,” Eamon replied before gesturing to the woman next to him, “this is Erlina. She’s—”

“I am Queen Anora’s handmaiden,” Erlina said introducing herself and cutting him off, “she sent me here to ask for your help.”

An Orlesian? Anora has an Orlesian handmaiden? Loghain allowed Anora to have an Orlesian handmaiden? That’s… surprising… considering his thoughts on Orlais.

“Or perhaps the young lady prefers to speak for herself,” Eamon replied.

“Why would Anora ask us for help?” she asked noticing everyone else enter the room… including Zevran.

“The Queen, she is in a difficult position,” Erlina explained, “she loved her husband, no? And trusted her Father to protect him. When he returns with no King and only dark rumors, what is she to think? She worries, no? But when she tries to speak with him, he does not answer. He tells her ‘not to trouble herself.’.”

“So, she’d rather side with us than her husband’s murderer?” she asked.

She… probably wasn’t going to like their plans for the Landsmeet… there was no way in hell she was going to support the bitch who allowed ass-wipes like Vaughan stroll into the Alienage like that. If she couldn’t even keep a good handle on the mother fucking _Arl of Denerim’s son_ then what trust could she have for the woman? She was likely the one who told the guards to never let King Cailan go near the Alienage as well.

Trusting Anora to continue to hold the throne would be the same as slapping herself in the face.

Also, she did not raise Alistair to simply hand the throne over to Anora.

“My Queen suspects she cannot trust her Father… and Loghain, he is very subtle, no?” Erlina continued, “but Rendon Howe, he is privy to all the secrets and… not so subtle. So she goes to Howe. A visit from the Queen to the new Arl of Denerim is only a matter of courtesy. And she demands answers.”

“I’m guessing that didn’t go well,” she replied dryly, “though, honestly, given his track record with the Couslands, I could have told you that.”

“He calls her every sort of name, ‘traitor’ being the kindest,” Erlina nodded, “and locks her in a guest room.”

“And Loghain would allow that?” she asked.

She really… didn’t want to go on another rescue mission through the Arl of Denerim’s estate… just thinking about it was making her nauseous.

“King Cailan was like a son to him, and Loghain left him to die. Does he love Anora more? Who can say?” Erlina replied, “I think… her life is in danger. I heard Howe say she would be a greater ally dead than alive. Especially if her death could be blamed on Arl Eamon.”

“Would Loghain kill his own daughter just to frame Arl Eamon?” she asked.

“We may have no choice but to trust Anora, the Queen is well-loved. If Loghain succeeded in pinning her death on me…” Eamon sighed, “I’m not sure that’s a risk we can afford to take.”

“It’s really not,” she sighed, “so? What are you proposing we do? Run in and massacre everyone in sight?”

“No… I have some uniforms… Arl Howe hires so many new guards every day, a few more will not cause much stir,” Erlina explained, “I will show you to the servants’ entrance. We must slip in and out with my Queen before anyone is the wiser… I will go ahead to Howe’s estate… meet me there as soon as you can.”

She gave a heavy sigh and sank down into a chair and held her head in her hands after Erlina had left.

“…I don’t need help navigating the Arl of Denerim’s estate,” she sighed “I know that place so well it makes me sick.”

“Why do you know the Arl of Denerims estate?” Alistair asked.

“Because this and that happened,” she replied, “and I ended up going on a murder spree throughout the entire estate killing every single guard, both on and off duty, as well as Vaughan and two of his lackeys.”

“Why…?” Elissa asked.

“This and that happened… and something in my head just went…” she repeated bringing a hand up next to her head and snapped her fingers, “it’s actually one of the reasons I _need_ to wear a disguise… I was kicked out of Denerim by the _City Guard_ … it’s part of how I became a Warden. In any case… Erlina and Anora probably don’t suspect what our plans are for the Landsmeet, especially considering how long she’s probably been locked up… let’s keep it that way.”

“I agree,” Eamon nodded, “that would be for the best.”

“Alistair should stay here since there’s still a chance this could be a trap,” she said, “Sten, Oghren, Shayle, and Diana will as well since they’re too conspicuous… Wynne would be a good bet just in case this isn’t a trap and she’s hurt… Morrigan should also stay since two mages might draw too much attention.”

“I’m going,” Elissa declared, “if there’s a chance you face Arl Howe, I want to be there.”

“Alright, then Le—” she nodded before being cut off.

“I’m going as well,” Zevran said speaking quickly.

“No,” she replied bluntly, “I’ll be taking Leliana.”

“Why?” Zevran asked.

“Because no one hires Elven guards,” she replied leaving no room for argument, “so having two Elves would be too conspicuous.”

She pretended she didn’t see the hurt in his eyes, and simply left with the other three in tow. It was better this way, better she hurt him and make him give up on her. The thought of him hating her hurt, but it was necessary… she needed him to get over her.

Her chest hurt, and she hated it.

She secretly took a dose of sedatives as she prepared for their rescue mission. Not enough to knock her out, but hopefully just enough to take the edge off of her anxiety… Going through Arl Eamon’s estate had been a nightmare… this… this was the actual scene of the crime.

***

To think that Kallian had massacred an entire estates worth of guards by herself… She knew the woman was skilled, but she hadn’t expected that…

_“My experience fighting in a group was also zero until we went into the Korcari Wilds together. I’d always worked alone, so being in a group, in general, was weird.”_

More importantly: something had happened between Kallian and Zevran, and ‘twas obviously not in a good way. She had noticed that the woman no longer wore the hairpin he had given her when she had removed her hat. Not only that but normally, the woman would simply allow Zevran to go along rather than deny him like that. Though ‘twas true that two Elves might draw more attention to them, but Kallian had once said that if she wanted to do something, she’ll think of reasons to justify it.

“What are you doing, fool?!” she snarled at Zevran, “did I not warn you that you would lose her if you were not careful?!”

“Yes, I admit it, I made a mistake,” Zevran snapped, “why do you care so much?”

“Because I don’t want to lose her either!” she snapped and walked away leaving the Elf staring at her in stunned silence.

Perhaps she had put too much faith in him… but she didn’t know what else to do. How else could she instill Kallian with the desire to live? This wasn’t something she knew anything about.

***

He had always thought that Kallian’s knack for combat bordered on the obscene.

_“Power without control is a dangerous thing.”_

Like him, she had lost control of herself and ended many lives with unthinking hands. For the most part, Kallian had maintained complete control over herself throughout his time knowing her. She was one of the most disciplined fighters he had ever met, though he had still, up until recently, thought her more suited to being a servant than being a soldier.

She would have been perfect fit for a role in the _Ben-Hassrath_.

***

They neared the Arl of Denerim’s estate and nausea was hitting her in waves as faces flashed through her mind.

Nola… Nola had run behind her when Vaughan had first entered the Alienage… she had _trusted_ her to protect her, and she’d failed. She had put her trust in her, and she had failed her.

Nelaros… why did he have to come for her? Why did he have to try to save her? She remembered him dying in her arms, his blood on her face.

And Shianni… Shianni who she loved so damn much… How could she have failed her? Why couldn’t she have been faster? All that training… and she still couldn’t protect and save those she loved most.

“Kallian, are you okay?” Wynne asked.

“Never better,” she lied.

“What happened between you and Zevran?” Elissa asked.

“Nothing important,” she lied again.

“Kalli… what do you feel for Zevran?” Leliana asked.

“Hatred,” she replied.

Or at least… that’s what she kept telling herself.

“Over here!” Erlina said grabbing their attention and gesturing for them to follow.

And she put in a thanks for an escape from this conversation. 

She needed him out of her head.

Especially considering that the estate was exactly as she remembered it.

“The servants’—” Erlina began.

“I don’t need your help navigating this place,” she replied cutting her off, “I know my way around… let’s just go.”

“We will still have to be very careful: Arl Howe is inside,” Erlina replied quickly recovering.

“Howe is here?” Elissa asked.

“Yes,” Erlina replied, “and wherever he goes, a great many guards go with him.”

“Meh,” she replied dismissively, “we survived an attack from the undead, Werewolves, demons and abominations, and the Deep Roads… we’ll be fiiine.”

Plus, she’s massacred the Arl of Denerim’s guards once, and mostly on her own, and she could probably do so again. That was before her journey, before who knows how many lives had been ended by her own hand before she had become a practiced killer… the thought that that was what she was now made her sick…

Though, this time she was with three others who could actually fight.

Soris hadn’t even had half the training Shianni did…

Some guards heard Erlina skulking about, and they were dealt with and dragged into the bushes.

“I can distract the guards,” Erlina said as they neared the servants’ entrance, “but you must move quickly.”

“Why bother?” Elissa asked, “there’s only two of them.”

“Because patrols,” she answered, “I could knock them out for five minutes… but then they’d wake up confused and that might not go over well either.”

“Disguises it is then,” Elissa sighed as she stared at the armor.

She didn’t know how to wear armor… but for some reason, apparently, Wynne did?

Wut?

“Kalli… it’s like this,” Leliana said noticing her struggle and helped her out.

“Ah… thanks,” she replied.

“Are you all prepared?” Erlina asked impatiently, “I will go distract the guards.”

“What good are the uniforms if they won’t get us inside?” Elissa asked.

“These two know who is allowed to come and go,” Erlina explained, “they will not be fooled. But the uniform should work on most of those inside.”

“Alright,” she sighed, “let’s get down to business…”

To defeat… Arl Howe.

“I will lure them into the courtyard,” Erlina replied, “wait in the bushes.”

“This is so stupid,” Elissa whispered while they were hiding, “can’t you just kill all of them? You’ve done it before, right?”

“That’s not exactly a point in my life I want to relive,” she whispered back, “so let’s just treat this like a hostage situation, hm?”

They watched Erlina run towards the guards semi-frantically.

“Oh! You must come! I saw something!” Erlina shouted, “by the fountain! I think it was Darkspawn!”

Her acting sucked and her hand found its way to her face.

“Darkspawn?” Elissa asked quietly as she furrowed her brows, “that’s the best she could come up with?”

“…Apparently,” she replied.

“Darkspawn?” the Guard asked.

“They will drag us all underground to be eaten!” Erlina replied.

“Should we call for help?” the Guard asked turning to the other one.

“Did you fall off a cart full of stupid? Call for help?” the Other Guard asked incredulously, “so they can see us act like scared little girls because of some knife-eared wench?”

Whoa… that’s a good one… she should remember it for later.

“They will eat us all alive!” Erlina begged, “please! Get help!”

“If there is something out there and we don’t sound the alarm,” the Guard replied, “we’ll look worse than scared.”

“Andraste’s holy knickers!” the Other Guard sighed, “fine, we’ll check the courtyard if it’ll keep you from wetting yourself. But there’s nothing there.”

“Thank you!” Erlina replied before running off, “oh! It was over here! Quickly!”

“The fact that that worked,” she sighed, “upsets me.”

They went in through the servants' entrance and she felt sick as she remembered her desperation as she ran through the estate, cutting down all who stood in her path… blood weighing down her ruined dress. It was exactly as she remembered. Her chest felt tight and it was hard to breathe… she should have taken a higher dose of sedatives.

She couldn’t wait until all of this was over and done with until the Blight was over until she lay dead along with the Archdemon… if it kept her from remembering these moments… any price was worth the pay.

“Ah! It took me forever to be rid of those two!” Erlina complained meeting back up with them, “you must be careful now. The servants, they will not look closely at anyone in uniform. All guards are alike to a cook, no? But you should not draw attention to yourself… Most of the guards are new. They will not know you for a stranger at a glance. It is best you keep your distance from all of them and try to blend in.”

“Where is Anora being held?” Wynne asked.

“She is in a guest room off the main hall,” Erlina answered, “Andraste guide us…”

Every step she took in the damn place gave her a fresh wave of nausea. But she couldn’t let it stop her, not here. There were still things to be done… she wasn’t okay, but she’ll pretend that she is.

She can throw up later… wasn’t that a thought she had last time too? That she could cry and scream when she was alone? It was the same now…

She wished she hadn’t remembered that… it just made her feel sicker.

They moved through the room Nola had died in… and she remembered how she had been cut down to set an example.

_“Stay away from us!”_

A stronger wave of nausea assaulted her, and she swallowed down the bile that threatened to spill from her lips. 

The room in which her heart shattered… Nelaros… he had been too good for her, far too good for her. He didn’t deserve the death he got, he deserved so much more. He deserved to live a happy life with someone who loved him and wasn’t her.

The place in her chest that had once been occupied by her heart hurt as they moved past where it had been torn from her chest and left to die on the floor. The weight of the ring she wore around her neck seemed heavier than usual. It was her fault he died. She touched her fingers to her cheek, honestly, it felt like his blood was smeared against her skin again… but when she pulled her hand away, it was clean. 

Of course, it was.

“The Grey Warden is here, My Lady,” Erlina said quietly at the door.

“Thank the Maker!” a Voice which she guessed belonged to Anora replied, “I would greet you properly, but I’m afraid we’ve had… a setback.”

Suspicious…

“Setback?” she asked.

“Yes, about that… my ‘host’ was not content with leaving me under heavy guard,” Anora answered, “he’s sealed the door by magic.”

“Why didn’t you mention this before, Erlina?” she asked in irritation.

“I did not know! There were only guards here when I left,” Erlina replied, “we must get her out of there!”

…This screamed the word ‘trap’… If they suddenly decided to amp up security, then they knew that they were coming. Which means they knew Anora would seek out Arl Eamon, but then they’d know that Arl Eamon would send either her, Alistair or both… It wasn’t a trap to pin the blame on Eamon: it was a trap to capture both Wardens. 

Whether Anora was in on it or not, she had no clue.

“Don’t panic, Erlina,” Anora replied, “find the mage who cast the spell. He’ll most likely be at Howe’s side.”

“So much for secrecy,” Elissa rolled her eyes.

“Well, if he didn’t know you were here,” Anora replied, “he soon will.”

“I can guarantee you that he knows we’re here,” she sighed, “this is a trap.”

“Please, Warden, I beg you: do not leave my Queen here,” Erlina begged.

“Free me,” Anora added, “and I promise you my aid in the Landsmeet.”

She highly doubted that considering that there was no way in _hell_ she was going to support Anora. They’ll have to become an influence big enough to throw her support off balance, then. The revelations of what Darkspawn did to women _would_ help them greatly. Even if the lords didn’t agree, then those who lost family at Ostagar would revolt… especially if the family they lost were mothers, daughters, sisters, cousins, aunts… That would be a huge deciding factor that would definitely add to their cause… as much as she hated profiting off of their misfortune.

There were still other members of the gentry that they could meet with and sway to their side…

Well, whaddayaknow? She did know something about political espionage.

“We do not have much time. We must go before the guards discover us,” Erlina replied, “Teyrn Howe will probably be in his rooms… they’re at the end of the hall, on the left.”

***

Her fellow trickster’s complexion kept worsening as they continued to move through the estate…

This place had traumatized her.

And she could tell that she was reliving the moment that she’d first been here. When she’d first rampaged through these halls, killing everyone who stood in her way.

She was reliving her trauma, she could see it in her eyes… it was like she was struggling to remain focused.

Zevran had said that her complexion was pale, and her eyes had been unfocused in Castle Redcliffe… that she may have been reliving something.

But there was nothing she could do about it. Nothing anyone could do about it. She refused to tell anyone about her trauma, she refused to let anyone into that part of her life. It was clearly so fresh a wound that it still bled. She remembered when they had been in Redcliffe for the first time and the flash of wide-eyed hysteria that had crossed her face.

_“Kalli… what do you feel for Zevran?”_

_“Hatred.”_

It was a lie she was telling herself in order not to get hurt… she wondered how many times Kallian has told herself she hated him… Zevran had realized his own feelings, but Kallian was in absolute denial as she told herself that she hated him, and felt nothing more for him than hatred…

What had happened to her that she was denying herself to this extent? Kallian was willful and absolutely impossible to control, and what’s more, once she got an idea in her head, she carried it through to the absolute end. Just how far was she planning on carrying this denial in her heart?

Was there even any hope for Zevran…?

The two were similar in many ways, but… she hadn’t thought that Kallian had been broken to this extent…

***

She felt like she was going to vomit as they entered Vaughan’s old room.

In her minds eye, she saw Shianni laying on the floor, bloody, battered, and broken. Blood on her thighs, lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling… The fear in Soris’ eyes as he pulled her off of Vaughan’s corpse… Shianni’s voice weakly begging her to take her home, sobbing as she asked her for help.

_“KALLI! KALLI STOP!”_

_“Kalli…? Kalli… Kalli help me… Kalli…”_

_“Just… just please don’t leave me alone… please… please… take me home. I want to go home.”_

_“There’s… so much blood… I can’t stand to look at it. It’s everywhere.”_

_“You killed them, didn’t you? You killed them all?”_

A chest full of documents caught her attention… there was a chance that there was something they could use against Loghain, so she went through them… only to find that they were Grey Warden documents, she carefully folded and stored them away in one of her pouches.

Was this door always here? Was there always a door to the dungeons in this room?

She couldn’t remember. Her consciousness had blacked out when she killed Vaughan… she’d completely lost control of herself. Her sanity had snapped and she had given herself over to rage.

“What?” a Guard said as they descended into the dungeons, “who goes there?!”

The man was grabbed from behind by a prisoner who pulled him towards the cell and snapped his neck. The prisoner took the keys, unlocked the door and dragged the body into the cell. She heard sounds that indicated the dead guard was being stripped of his armor. Gross. But she supposed that whoever it was had to take what they could get.

“I thank you for creating such a distraction, stranger,” the Prisoner said, “I have been waiting days for the opportunity… You never hear the music in the sound of a key turning in a lock until you’ve been imprisoned.”

“I suppose you’re welcome,” she replied nodding politely.

“I am Riordan. Senior Grey Warden of Jader,” Riordan said with a polite bow, “and you… must be Duncan’s last recruit… Kallian Tabris. Yes, you match his description.”

Her shitty trip into the Arl of Denerim’s estate just got shittier as a tsunami of nausea hit her like a bullet train… she felt sick. Just another reminder about the day she’d been forced into becoming a Warden. Why didn’t she bring Diana? Oh, right because she was too conspicuous… plus there were other Mabari, they would know that she wasn’t one of them… probably.

“Leli,” she whispered.

“It is in Orlais,” Leliana whispered back.

“Ohhhh,” she nodded before clearing her throat, “what are you doing here?”

“For the most part, attempting to hold my tongue,” Riordan replied, “I was sent when we received no word from King Cailan as to the outcome at Ostagar… the King had invited all the Wardens of Orlais and their support troops to join him, then… nothing.”

“How did Howe even capture you?” she asked.

“With an offer of hospitality and a poisoned chalice,” Riordan replied, “I was fool enough to think Loghain didn’t yet know who I was.”

“Hello reason I never accept things from strangers, especially if I can’t discern their true intentions,” she replied bluntly.

“Where’s Howe?” Elissa asked impatiently.

“I saw him go into the dungeons,” Riordan answered, “he may still be there.”

“Figures,” Elissa spat, “the slime…”

Dungeons… she was supposed to be rotting there… she tried to focus on her breathing, but it wasn’t working… She wished Diana were here…

“Are these your papers?” she asked retrieving the papers from her pouch.

“Yes… these are my records. The names of the dead I could recognize at Ostagar… what I could find of Duncan’s own recruitment records,” Riordan nodded taking them from her, “copies of the Joining ritual I rescued from our Denerim vault. Those should never be seen by any outside eyes, but I trust in their encryption.”

The Joining ritual…?

“The Joining ritual?” Wynne asked, “then you could induct other Grey Wardens?”

“Would that I could, for Ferelden sorely needs them,” Riordan replied, “but for the Joining to work, the recruit needs not only fresh Darkspawn blood but a drop of blood preserved from an Archdemon.”

“Ohh… so that’s why we don’t turn into ghouls immediately,” she hummed.

“Indeed, it is one of the reasons, yes,” Riordan nodded, “Ferelden’s supply should have been in the vault, but it was gone. I can only imagine someone took it out and Loghain either confiscated or destroyed it."

“How large of a force did you bring with you?” Elissa asked.

“We had two hundred Wardens and two dozen divisions of calvary. The first we heard of Loghain’s edict was when everyone was turned back at the border,” Riordan answered, “that was when the rumor reached us that Wardens were being blamed for the massacre… We finally decided it was safest to send someone alone, to learn how to best fight the Blight and this regime simultaneously… As a native Ferelden, I volunteered to make the crossing.”

“But the Archdemon’s nearly here!” Leliana replied, “will we have no help?”

“The other Wardens won’t risk their strength fighting Ferelden’s civil war… if they spend themselves against Loghain, there is truly no hope,” Riordan explained, “they recall accounts of the First Blight, how many cities fell… if Ferelden is too foolish to save itself, at least we’ll be ready when the Archdemon leads its forces further…”

Good.

Because that meant she wouldn’t have to worry about too much competition… As it is, she probably has to worry about racing Riordan to the kill… as a Senior Warden… he definitely knew the price of killing an Archdemon.

She was tired.

She just wanted everything to be over.

She never thought she’d be grateful for Loghain’s stupidity… but here she was.

“Besides, I hear you haven’t been doing badly at raising an army yourself,” Riordan continued, “but perhaps if the edict can be lifted… I will send a message as soon as we are gone from this place.”

…Well, suicide was still an option, she guessed.

“I see,” she nodded.

“Now, if you’ll pardon me, I’ve a sudden desire to breathe some free air,” Riordan replied, “I will seek you out later— after I find a good physician… and good luck… Sister.”

She kept the disgust from her face.

She hated being a Warden.

She hated that this was what her life was now…

But there was only one person who knew that.

And she didn’t want to be on speaking terms with him at the moment.

“Elissa… here,” she said taking the vial of poison out from her bun after kicking off the borrowed armor, “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to give this to you or not… but hey, why not, right?”

“What is it?” Elissa asked looking at the vial.

“A new poison I developed,” she answered, “I haven’t hated someone, or felt sadistic enough to test it yet… I recommend coating your weapons with it when we meet Howe.”

“What does it do?”

“It’s a crippling paralytic poison that targets and destroys the nervous system,” she replied, “spiked with Darkspawn blood… I can only imagine that dying of it will be agonizing.”

“…Why did you make this?”

“Because Branka _really_ pissed me off… I’m looking forward to the results, all you should need to do is nick him with it.”

“You felt sadistic enough to make it, but not use it?”

“Yep… killing a pig using a dull knife yields more pain, after all.”

They moved through the dungeons, killing everyone that stood in their way… encountering people imprisoned by Howe who they freed… Rexel, whose family had posted a request to find on the Chanter’s Board… she freed him. The man… was like Ruck, and she resisted the urge to vomit.

The son of a Bann would go a long way for them, she told him to tell his Father to support Alistair in the Landsmeet. They needed allies, and since they would be acting against Anora, they needed all the allies they could get.

***

Kallian was _not_ doing well in the Arl of Denerim’s estate… that much was clear. She could tell that Leliana and Wynne were also concerned, but if even they didn’t know what had traumatized her in the estate… then who would? She doubted even Zevran knew. It was a pain Kallian kept to herself and refused to tell anyone.

She wished they could have brought Alistair here instead, but it was too risky. Not only was he a Grey Warden, but he was the one they were pushing to make King… But this needed to be done, so Kallian forced herself into the role.

What could have brought her to this estate? For what reason would she feel the need to massacre every single guard who had once worked here? Did they try to…? Was that the reason she pushed Zevran away? Kallian’s past was still riddled with so much mystery, that it was mind-boggling. Even though she knew more than the rest of them did, she still didn’t know much more than the others.

She coated her weapons in the poison Kallian had developed before pushing into the last room that Howe could be in.

“Well, look here. Bryce Cousland’s little spitfire, all grown up and still playing the man,” Howe snarled, “I thought Loghain made it clear that your pathetic family is gone and forgotten.”

“You won’t forget,” she snarled in return, “their memory drove me to you.”

“Your parents died on their knees, I made your Mother kiss my feet as she died. It was the last thing your Father saw,” Howe replied with a sneer, “your brother’s corpse rots in Ostagar, and his brat was burned on a scrap heap along with his Antivan whore of a wife. And what’s left?”

“I am,” she hissed, “why did you betray us?! My Father was your friend! He trusted you!”

“There it is, right there!” Howe glowered at her, “that damned look in the eye that marked every Cousland success that held me back… it would appear you have made something of yourself after all. Your Father would be pleased. I’m sure… I, however, want you dead more than ever.”

“I’m going to enjoy this,” she replied and slashed at him with her poisoned weapon as the others took care of his lackeys.

The effect was immediate, Kallian’s skills as an apothecary were no joke. Something she’d already known, considering how effective the medicines she had distributed in Redcliffe had been.

He fell to the ground, body writhing in pain as he screamed in agony. Kallian watching with mild interest… her tastes had always been a bit macabre, and her darker more malevolent side, shockingly malicious.

“Feel free to put him out of his misery whenever you want,” Kallian said offhandedly, “I’ve got enough data, I don’t think I’ll be making this one again… it’s a bit too extreme… even for me.”

She lopped off his head when she grew tired of his screaming.

“Please don’t,” Leliana replied, “I don’t think I want to see the effects of that ever again.”

“Well… I only have one more vial,” Kallian shrugged.

“How could you use that against another person?” Wynne asked.

“He’s not a person,” she seethed, “he’s trash… did you not hear what he did to my parents?!”

“What she said,” Kallian replied before taking off her extra weapons, leaving her with only the daggers up her sleeves, “take care of these for me.”

“Why?” she asked taking her weapons.

“Because Anora was just bait in a trap… whether she, herself, was in on it or not, I don’t know,” Kallian explained, “but this wasn’t a trap to kill Anora and pin the blame on Eamon: it was a trap to capture the Wardens… by the way, she’ll likely turn on us during the Landsmeet… but make sure she doesn’t know how far ahead we’ve seen.”

She’d always known that Kallian was the greatest trump card that _anyone_ would ever get their hands on. The woman had unparalleled analytical and observational skills. 

A once in a lifetime genius.

Though, she highly doubted that the woman herself regarded herself as such.

They released Howe’s final surviving prisoner: a Templar suffering from lyrium withdrawals… the Templar that had almost captured Jowan. The brother of the Bann of the Waking Sea. Another voice to add to theirs during the Landsmeet.

“Oh,” Kallian said stopping just before they left the dungeons, she undid the chain she wore around her neck revealing an intricately well-crafted ring, “please take care of this for me, too.”

“Of course,” she nodded.

Kallian had loved Nelaros… and judging by the ring… the feeling had been mutual.

***

He stared at the hairpin and the earring in his hands…

_“And if I’m so damn difficult and frustrating, then maybe you _should_ go. I’ve got things to do, and whatever you do now is none of my damn business.”_

He loved her but she shoved him away… the heart wants what it wants, and what his wanted, was hers.

_“From how I see it… Zevran… you are madly in love with her, and have been since you first met.”_

He knew that he never wanted to leave her side, that he wanted her to start over again, that he cared for her greatly… 

He should have known that he was in love with her… the thought of her dying had always filled him with despair. The pain in his chest whenever she’d rejected him, how he had always wanted to keep her to himself and would do anything for her. He had known that what he wanted was far more than just her body, that what he wanted was her, in her entirety… but he had been afraid to admit that he was in love with her. After what happened with Rinna… he probably subconsciously refused to admit that what he felt for her was indeed love.

Especially considering that the woman was on a path that led to her own destruction, and refused to be swayed.

_“Because I don’t want to lose her either!”_

He hadn’t expected that from the witch… how much about her did she know? He tried to find her to ask, but couldn’t locate her. Though he also considered using the time while she was away to sneak into the Alienage to find her family, he couldn’t help but be worried. It was in the Arl of Denerim’s estate that she had experienced something traumatic. 

The look on her face before the four had left said as much.

“Eamon! We have a problem!” Anora shouted running into the room.

His Warden, no, his Heart, was not there with them.

“Oh, great,” Alistair sighed, “I was starting to worry that this would be easy.”

“Andraste watch over her,” Leliana prayed.

“We have very little time for chat,” Wynne replied, “we need to work out a plan.”

“What happened?!” he asked, “where is she?”

“She surrendered herself to Ser Cauthrien,” Elissa answered, “they’re taking her to Fort Drakon.”

He was already running, Leliana not far behind him.


	53. How the Rescued Cat Returned Home

She’d been stripped and beaten. Some of her captors held grudges from the fact that she’d killed friends and family during her first rampage through the estate, and she could understand their anger. Others believed Loghain’s bullshit and thought that she had a part in the outcome of Ostagar. She’d rag-dolled her body in the hopes of mitigating most of the damage, and was now gingerly assessing the damage done to her. Nothing felt broken, none of her organs had ruptured… she was in the clear.

She was surprised and grateful that she’d somehow managed to dodge being raped thanks to one of the more prudent guards being on duty… Though she’d heard them speak of when she got off duty… There were also a number of them who thought she was sick though, considering the fact that she now had no guts to vomit.

She was glad she’d left most of her stuff with Elissa… they’d taken the bandages she wore around her arms, and the cloth she bound her chest in… She wished she’d worn a breast band today, but well, what’s done was done.

“You look like you’ve been dragged through ten kinds of crap, friend,” the Man in the cell next to hers said, “what’d you do?”

“Oh, you know… butchered an entire estates worth of guards, and the old Arl of Denerim’s son,” she casually answered, “and also had a part in Arl Howe’s death.”

“Who calls that a crime?” the Man replied, “more like public service… I hear the Arl of Denerim’s son was a monster. Still, they’ll hang you for it.”

“Most likely,” she sighed.

She could probably escape, but she could find neither the care, nor energy to.

She was tired.

She hasn’t been this tired since she had died in that hospital bed, surrounded by blurry faces, tears, and the beeping of machines.

She closed her eyes leaning against the wall of the jail cell she’d been thrown into and allowed herself to be taunted and abused by the ghosts of her past.

***

According to what he’d gathered from Leliana: something had indeed definitely happened to her in the Arl of Denerim’s estate… She’d been barely able to keep herself together, something that did not happen frequently. It always shocked him whenever he witnessed her in such states… he knew it shocked the rest of them as well. The woman was stubborn, obstinate, and always sure of herself, what she was doing and very rarely wavered.

They changed into commoners clothing before they reached Fort Drakon, deciding it best to sneak in.

“State your business,” the Guard said.

“Making a delivery for the kennels, ser,” Leliana answered, “beef bones for the dogs.”

“I wasn’t told about anything being shipped in today,” the Guard replied.

“Well, could you ask someone?” Leliana asked, “pretty please?”

“Fine,” the Guard sighed, “wait over there. I’ll get the Captain.”

“You know,” he commented after they moved to the room the Guard had gestured them too, “you never feel so alive as when you’re breaking and entering.”

“How are you holding up, Zevran?” Leliana asked.

“Likely better than she is,” he sighed.

They stopped their conversation as they heard the clanking of metal boots approach.

“Alright, what’s this about?” the Captain asked.

“Making a delivery, Captain,” Leliana answered.

“I wasn’t notified about this,” the Captain replied.

“It was a little spur-of-the-moment, I’ll admit,” Leliana replied wryly gesturing to the bag he was carrying, “cook at the Royal Palace had a lot of soup bones left over and wanted to send them to the dogs here.”

It did not, in fact, have soup bones… it actually had their armor and weapons.

“Table scraps…? Oh, Maker… fine,” the Captain sighed, “take them to the kennel.”

“Of course, Captain,” Leliana replied.

Sharing a look, they moved past the guards and closer to where they were likely holding his Heart captive.

…Why were there ballistas _inside_ the fortress? What genius thought that up? Even _he_ knew better than that.

“This might be tricky,” Leliana commented as they saw a lone guard.

“Have confidence,” he replied, “we will simply divert her and go on our way… and that’s something we can both handle, yes?”

“Of course,” Leliana nodded, “I wasn’t a bard for nothing.”

“I’ll handle this one,” he replied and began sashaying his way over to the woman.

Seduction and trickery were staples in his toolkit as a Crow.

“State your business,” the Guard said.

“This is a crime!” he gasped looking her up and down.

She was nowhere near the level of his Heart, but she didn’t have to know that.

“What?” the Guard asked furrowing her brows.

“For a young woman in the prime of her life to waste away…” he sighed shaking his head, “I suppose there is some comfort in the knowledge that you sacrifice your youth and beauty, the best years of your life, for your kingdom, but it seems… such a loss.”

“I… hadn’t really thought of it like that…” the Guards replied.

“How noble, to sacrifice the pleasures of life so others might enjoy them,” he continued, “your idealism is impressive.”

“You know… you’re right. Three Satinalias in a row, they’ve stuck me on barracks duty. Three!” the Guard complained, “I’m going to live my life before it’s too late. Let somebody else guard their stupid door.”

They watched the Guard walk away, along with the rest of the guards in the room.

“And this is where we dispense with charm and subterfuge,” he commented, “these guards will know we have no business here.”

“I agree,” Leliana nodded, “I don’t think we’ll be able to talk our way past anyone back here.”

They took their armor and weapons from their bag, though Leliana’s bow hadn’t been able to fit in there… she could grab one from one of their enemies later. 

She wasn’t too bad with daggers… still, she took the first bow and quiver off of the first guard they killed.

Finally, they pushed into the last room, and there she was… the last two guards died swiftly, and Leliana began immediately looking for the key while he ran to the bars of her jail cell.

Her eyes were closed and she was leaning against the wall… she looked delicate, fragile… she’d been stripped and beaten… he could tell by the bruises on her skin.

Had they…?

Leliana opened the door to both her cell and the man in the cell next to hers, but he wasn’t concerned with him. 

He was at her side in seconds.

“Kallian? Kallian!” he shouted grabbing her by the shoulders and gently shaking her.

Her eyes lazily opened, but her gaze was distant, unfocused… she wasn’t seeing him.

“You… came… for me,” Kallian smiled blissfully a hand coming up to gently caress the side of his face, before her eyes closed again, her hand falling down limply, “Nela… ros…”

…Nelaros? Who— no, this wasn’t the time for that. The past did not matter, what he needed to focus on was the present.

“I found her clothes,” Leliana said placing the bundle of clothes next to them and they began carefully redressing her.

He lifted her into his arms, and they began moving back towards the entrance, they ran through the back alleys of Denerim back to Arl Eamon’s estate… She did not stir even once, but her body was still warm in his arms, and he could tell she was breathing.

***

According to Wynne, Kallian had somehow managed to dodge getting any of her bones broken… all her wounds were just bruises and superficial scratches. Something that came as a shock to all of them, considering just how battered she’d looked… Was she secretly a witch? She had to be to escape that without any broken bones or ruptured organs.

Still, it was hard seeing his fellow Warden like that: weak and frail… they probably took their pent up anger out on her. From her first rampage, and what happened at Ostagar. He clenched his fist tightly, from what Elissa had quietly told him, making sure to keep out of earshot from both Anora and Erlina, it _was_ a trap… but Kallian had figured out that it wasn’t a trap to kill Anora, it was a trap to capture both Wardens and given herself up willingly… knowing what they might do to her once they’d captured her…

She’d known the risks but allowed it anyway… and as she’d planned: Anora didn’t suspect a thing about how far ahead they’ve seen.

He’d always been in awe of her intelligence, sheer willpower, and ability to do what needed to be done… but right now, it hurt him.

It hurt him, just how far she was willing to go.

He did his part, acting the part of a bumbling idiot who didn’t want the throne. Elissa also acted the same…

But there was no way in hell he was giving the throne to Anora… he wasn’t going to let Kallian down like that.

“Now that she’s being healed up,” Leliana sighed, “I wonder who Nelaros is…”

He saw Elissa freeze for a second.

“Do you know something?” he asked.

“Maybe a little,” Elissa replied looking away, “but that doesn’t matter, does it?”

“Who is he?” Zevran asked.

“That’s not something you should hear from me,” Elissa replied, “that is her business… her story to divulge.”

“Well, she’s awake,” Wynne sighed opening the door to the room she was in.

“Had they…?” Zevran trailed off.

“No, they hadn’t,” Wynne replied shaking her head.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as everyone entered the room she had been in.

“Hungry,” Kallian replied, “but I can eat later.”

“You were beaten half to death,” Sten remarked as Oghren laughed, “and all you feel is hungry?”

“I know how to take a hit,” Kallian shrugged snapping her fingers into a thumbs up.

“Who’s Nelaros?” Leliana asked.

“None of your business,” Kallian replied.

“Isn’t it time you told them?” Elissa asked with a sigh.

“No, it’s never the time,” Kallian replied firmly, “it’ll never be the time.”

“Have it your way…” Elissa sighed again before handing her a ring on a chain, “here.”

“Thank you,” Kallian replied taking the ring and briefly holding it to her chest before securing it back around her neck.

***

He remembered her blissful smile, and the gentle caress of her hand on his face… he wanted to see it again, feel it again… but he so desperately wanted for it to be directed at him, and not some man who he did not know.

“Kallian,” he said, he only used her name when it was important, something she knew and picked up on right away, “we need to talk.”

“No, we don’t,” Kallian replied continuing towards Arl Eamon’s sitting room.

“Yes, we do,” he replied firmly making a grab for her… but of course she dodged away from him.

She was always moving away from him, and he was always following her. Chasing after her… but she never looked back at him, she just kept trudging forward… never stopping.

And now she was getting further and further away from him.

“We have nothing to talk about,” Kallian snapped.

“We do,” he repeated and he caught her wrist.

“Zevran,” Kallian replied with a smile as she wrenched herself from his grasp, “you’re free of the Crows now… I’m sure you have other things to focus on now… so go focus on that.”

He clenched his jaw to keep himself from calling her frustrating and difficult to deal with again, remembering how poorly it had worked before. His mistake had cost him more than he could have ever anticipated. Every word she spoke was intended to hurt him, to drive him away. 

He knew this, but it still hurt.

He needed to get into the Alienage.

***

She hated that he was still with her, she hated that he was still following her… talking to him like this hurt her as well, but it needed to be done. She knew she didn’t actually hate him, she knew what she truly felt for him… but it was something that could never be. Nelaros had scoffed, sneered, and yelled at her as she slept in that dungeon cell. A wound that had cut deeper considering earlier events.

“Maker’s breath!” Eamon sighed in relief, “it’s good to see you in one piece, my friend.”

“Indeed,” Anora nodded, “we have been praying for your safe return, Kallian.”

“It’s good to see that you’re alright as well, Anora,” she smiled warmly.

“I was… uncertain you would respond as you did, considering the consequences,” Anora replied, “I am glad you did… thank you.”

“I hate unnecessary violence and bloodshed,” she replied, “if a fight can be avoided with diplomacy, I will always choose that path instead.”

“I see… now, however, we must work together. And quickly,” Anora replied, “my Father has gone mad. I didn’t believe it at first, but he is gripped by a paranoia so severe it prevents him from seeing sense.”

“No one wants to believe that their parent has gone mad,” she replied with a sad smile, she hadn’t been called colder, calculating, and manipulative than any other demon for no reason.

She hated how good she was at manipulation and deception… but both tactics had their uses.

“Indeed, he saw me as a threat,” Anora added, “yet even now I’m certain he will be telling the nobles you are dangerous murderers that have kidnapped and mind-controlled me… he may even believe it.”

“So we rescued you to what end, then?” she asked.

“You will need ammunition come the Landsmeet, and I can help in that regard,” Anora replied, “you have only just arrived in the city, so perhaps you are unaware of some… recent events. Denerim has been in turmoil since Ostagar. Many people here are angry or grieving… strangely, the unrest is worse in the Alienage… Few Elves accompanied the army, so they should have little reason to be upset. Which means that Howe and my Father must have given them reason. I don’t know what is happening there, but I am certain my Father has his hands in it.”

“Right, well, I’ll be back later,” she replied moving to a window that she threw open and then jumped out of, tucking her body into a roll and leaping to her feet before sprinting off to the Alienage.

A Purge… there had to have been a Purge…

***

Why wouldn’t anyone _fucking listen to her?!_

“I’ve got children at home!” Flora shouted, “I can’t wait out here for another day!”

“So go home!” she shouted back, “the best thing you can do for your children is not trust these charlatans!”

“Everyone remain calm,” one of the ‘Healers’ said, “we will help as many as we can today, so long as we can do this in an orderly fashion.”

“Oh, you’re ‘helping’ us, are you, _shem?_ ” she hissed, “like Valendrian, Valora, Nessa, and my Uncle Cyrion, you helped them, didn’t you? Helped them never to be seen again!”

“We’ve explained this to you before, girl,” the ‘Healer’ replied with a sigh, “more whining will not persuade us to let you into the quarantine to carry plague back out to the Alienage.”

“Quit trying to get us all killed, Shianni!” Gerald shouted angrily, “some of us have still got things to live for.”

“If this spell of theirs works, why are half the people they quarantine perfectly healthy?” she asked angrily.

“If Kalli were here…” she glowered.

“But Kallian _isn’t_ here,” Gerald glowered back at her, “and she’ll never be here again thanks to _you!_ ”

“Maker’s balls,” she grumbled, “what would Kalli do…?”

“Infiltrate, investigate, and if need be, eliminate,” a Voice answered.

“But I’m not as skilled as her,” she sighed.

“Is anyone?” the Voice asked.

“Of course no—” she cut herself off and looked to the side.

Kallian was standing right next to her, a hand on her chin… her hair in the same style as the day she left the Alienage… her make-up was the same as well.

“’Sup?” Kallian asked casually glancing at her.

“THAT’S ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF?!” she roared grabbing her cousin by her shoulders and shaking her back and forth with enough force for her head to loll around, “DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW WORRIED I’VE BEEN!?”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it,” Kallian replied her voice coming out distorted as she continued to shake her.

“Couldn’t you have AT LEAST said ‘hello’ to my face instead of leaving a letter on my bed like a creep!?” she asked angrily continuing to shake her.

“I told you I was being blamed for regicide,” Kallian replied, “and I didn’t want to risk being found out.”

“…So you _did_ return to the Alienage,” a Human commented dryly and she stopped shaking her dumb idiot cat of a cousin to glare at him.

“Naturally,” Kallian replied, “no one knows Denerim like I do, mya.”

“Do you know these people?” she asked noticing more people crowding around.

“Yeah… Alistair, the other Grey Warden to survive, and, if I play my cards right, future King of Ferelden,” Kallian began introducing them, “Elissa, Teyrna of Highever, Sten, he’s a Qunari I rescued from a cage, Wynne, she’s a mage… Elroy’s doing pretty okay, Oghren, a drunkard who is a surprisingly effective warrior, Morrigan who saved my ass after Ostagar, Leliana whose a former bard, Shayle who is obviously a golem, Zevran the assassin who was hired to kill me and obviously failed… and Diana, whose name I’m sure you remember.”

“I can’t believe you actually named your dog after the stuffed toy Mabari we had when we were little,” she replied wryly.

“What can I say?” Kallian shrugged, “I’m sentimental trash.”

She could tell by the way Zevran looked at her, that he was madly in love with her cousin… she could also tell that nothing had come of it, despite the fact that the feeling was likely mutual…

***

So, this was the rumored Shianni…

And he had suspected that his Heart had snuck into the Alienage at some point.

“Kalli, you have no idea… the things that happened after your wedding,” Shianni replied hugging her cousin tightly, “I… I’m so happy to see you.”

“A wedding?!” he asked in shock, “then you’re married?!”

‘After her wedding’? Despair lanced through his entire being… if she were married… then perhaps it _would_ be best he leave. Leave before either of them got hurt more than they had… Or, he could just steal her away from whoever it was that she was married to. That was also an option, and he was confident that he would be able too… since he knew that she had buried her true feelings under a mountain of denial.

He was also sure that no one could ever possibly love her as much as he does.

“It didn’t actually take place,” Kallian replied.

“No? You left him at the alter, didn’t you?” he asked jokingly, trying to hide the hurt he felt.

“He died,” Kallian replied refusing to meet his eye, “trying to save me… from the Arl of Denerim’s estate.”

“I… don’t know what to say to that,” he replied dumbly.

“It… was a wedding that started with hopeful innocence, and a pure white dress,” Kallian replied, “and ended with shattered dreams, broken hearts, and a dress dyed red with blood.”

“I’ll tell you about it later,” Shianni promised, “Kalli… so much has happened… it’s good you’re home.”

Then she had lied to them about her unrequited love… but this wasn’t the time for accusations.

Because more importantly: he found the source of her trauma… as well as someone who could help him.

But… would she trust him?

***

She could already see her Tower of Lies come crashing down… ah, well, no matter… she supposed it was about time they learn about her truth.

Her crime. 

Her sin.

“Have you seen Soris?” she asked.

“He’s at your house… he was staying with Alarith, but… well, things are a little tense right now,” Shianni answered, “a lot of people blame him. Can you believe that? They blame _Soris_ as if he were responsible for what the new Arl did to us.”

“Alarith blames him too?” she raised a brow.

“Of course not,” Shianni replied furrowing her brows, “you, especially, should know how Alarith is given how much time you spent bothering him… but the first night Soris stayed with him, someone painted the word, ‘traitor’ across the front of Alarith’s shop… and while we cleaned that up, people pelted us with rocks and horse dung… Soris decided it was better if he stayed somewhere else.”

“How could they do that?” she furrowed her brows, “we’re supposed to be a community.”

“You might as well ask why it was only Soris and Nelaros who came to our rescue that night,” Shianni scowled, “why not the whole Alienage? They’re stupid, scared people, Kalli. They think that since this is the way things have always been, there’s nothing to do but make the most of it. They don’t know how to change anything… I’d probably think the same thing, if not for you.”

“What could we have done, anyway?” Gerald scowled butting into their conversation, “the Arl’s got armored soldiers! We’ve got nothing!”

“I was wearing a wedding dress with no weapons,” she pointed out dryly.

“Don’t bother arguing with him, Kalli,” Shianni replied, “you’ll be here for days… and I still have more to tell you.”

“Howe’s dead,” Elissa replied, “we made sure he suffered.”

“All these gifts,” Shianni grinned, “and it’s not even my naming day.”

“You just don’t care how much trouble you bring down on us, do you?” Ella scowled, “must be nice to be above your own people.”

“Who brought Vaughan here in the first place? Tell me what we did to deserve that, and _maybe_ I’ll start caring what you think. Idiot,” Shianni glared, “Elves wind up dead in the Market gutters every day over a wrong word, or a look, or nothing at all. That’s how it’s always been. We fight back, or we submit, but it doesn’t change anything. I’m not about to shed a tear over that butcher Howe’s death. If I could I’d kick his grave marker and dance on his ashes.”

“He died screaming in agony,” Elissa replied with a grin.

“Wonderful,” Shianni grinned back.

“…You two are _definitely_ related,” Alistair commented, “and things will change, once I take the throne… I promise.”

“You really expect us to believe that?” Shianni asked accusingly.

“Well… considering I’m giving Kalli an entire teyrnir, yes,” Alistair replied.

“You’re— what?” Shianni asked incredulously before turning to her, “you’re going to be a Teyrna?”

“Yeah, I don’t really know what’s going on anymore either,” she shrugged, “so, where’s Valendrian?”

“He’s… well, that’s something I want to talk to you about, actually,” Shianni replied, “they took him! These Tevinters took him into that house days ago, and no one’s seen him since! They said he had the plague. But he didn’t, Kalli, he was healthy as a war hound. And now they’ve got him, and won’t let anyone see him.”

“They’re educated men, Shianni. They’d know if he had the plague,” Gerald replied, “and it’s not as if Valendrian would make a show of illness even if he were on his deathbed.”

“So… what plague is everyone talking about?” she asked.

“These people say they’re here to help us,” Shianni answered, “funny thing, the people they ‘help’ all disappear!”

“That’s not true, and you know it, Shianni!” Ella replied, “both my sisters got protections from the plague, and they’re fine!”

“What about your niece, though?” Shianni asked, “and my Uncle Cyrion, and Valendrian? Where are they?”

“…What protections from the plague?” she asked tilting her head to the side, “I mean, yeah, colds suck, but they’re called a common cold for a reason… especially around this time of year.”

“I’m sorry, Kalli, I know you haven’t been here… and you couldn’t help it. You have a lot of catching up to do, I guess,” Shianni sighed, “wait a cold? It’s just a cold?”

“Yeah… I’ll make a large pot of chicken soup with some grain later,” she nodded, “and I think I have some extra blankets people can curl up in to sweat it out… where’s my Father?”

“The Tevinters quarantined your Father yesterday… I told him not to go to the hospice!” Shianni explained, “not one Elf they’ve taken in there has come out again. Who knows what’s become of them.”

“Right, well,” she replied, “time to go infiltrate, investigate, and if necessary, eliminate.”

“I _knew_ you’d do something, Kalli,” Shianni sighed in relief, “Maker watch over you.”

***

His Heart disappeared into the hospice, her acting skills had always been top-notch… still, he was worried.

“So, you’re to thank for her survival?” Shianni asked turning to Morrigan.

“’Twas mostly Flemeth,” Morrigan replied, “but I suppose I helped, yes.”

“Thank you… thank you so much,” Shianni replied feeling tears welling up in her eyes, “when I heard that all the Wardens had died with the King… I— I thought it was all my fault.”

“You are… welcome,” Morrigan replied awkwardly.

“Who is Nelaros?” he asked.

“He was… her fiance,” Shianni replied, “he died trying to save us from the Arl of Denerim’s estate…”

“But she said her love was unrequited,” he replied.

“Then she lied,” Shianni shook her head, “Kalli loved Nelaros, and Nelaros loved Kalli… it was completely mutual.”

“Why would she lie?” Alistair asked.

“Probably… to protect herself,” Shianni replied, “to protect herself… she killed off that part of her as best she could.”

That was something he understood… mentally severing ties with the person they had once been in an effort to protect their own hearts. It was something he’d done when they had taken his Mother’s gloves from him as a Crow. He glanced down at the gloves his Heart had given him, catching sight of the Antivan boots as well… he treated everything he’d received from her as though they were precious treasures… because to him, they were.

He was about to ask about the wedding when the door was thrown open so harshly that it might as well have been blown off.

The two ‘healers’ dropped dead immediately… his Heart’s wrath was not one incurred lightly.

“It’s safe now,” Kallian’s voice said soothingly, “go home.”

Two Elves suddenly ran and groveled at her feet as a crowd of Elves ran out from the hospice.

“Kallian, please,” One of the Elves, “please forgive us.”

“Please, mercy,” the Other begged.

“Bold of you to assume you can be forgiven for _selling your friends and family out to slavers_ ,” Kallian’s sweet as candy voice rang out loudly.

“Wait… did you just say slavers?” Shianni asked in horror.

“You… you sold us out to slavers…?” Ella asked weakly staring at them in shock, “my own sisters…? You sold out your own _child?!_ ”

“I’m sure you know what to do with them,” Kallian replied regarding both Elves as though they were trash, intimidation radiating off of her in waves, before leaping up onto the roof of the hospice and disappearing.

“Quick! You have to go after her!” Shianni said pointing frantically, “you can follow her through the back alleys!”

He was already running after her… just as he always has, and always will.

***

Her war path saw everyone dead, just as it had last time.

She carried bodies with her to block arrows and sliced through any who dared even lift a hand towards her.

Coating her weapons and a few throwing daggers in her last vial of poison, had her leaving the Elven slaver screaming in agony… Screams rang out loudly, a symphony of suffering and pain… it’ll kill them in twenty minutes… why waste the extra effort? She was filled with anger, hatred, and rage… more so than when she’d dealt with Branka, because this time… this time it was her own friends and family at stake.

She _will_ end Loghain for this.

She needed to get to her Father… she could feel her hunger and overall exhaustion catching up to her. 

She was losing energy fast.

***

All he had to do, was follow the agonized screaming… what poison had she used? He didn’t recognize the effects of it. He ignored them as best as he could, trying to catch up to her before his Heart got herself killed… she was likely going to have to deal with blood mages if the slavers were indeed from Tevinter. And though she was obviously capable, she _had_ just been beaten and thrown into a jail cell earlier that day.

He caught up to her just as she threw a dagger at who he guessed was probably the ringleader, and he dropped screaming. Though there were still other enemies around, and he helped her quickly dispatch them…

He did not miss the brief look of annoyance that had crossed her face when she caught sight of him… She really was trying to push him away with everything she had… 

Well, two can play at that game. If she wanted to be stubborn and obstinate, then he simply had to be just as stubborn and obstinate… something that came to him as a bit of a surprise… he could not recall a time that he had ever needed to be stubborn…

Thinking about it, he was always stubborn when it came to matters involving her.

When he got the chance, he will sneakily ask her cousin about her wedding.

“Father!” Kallian shouted drawing him out of his thoughts as she opened one of the cages.

“My little girl…” who he guessed was her Father, Cyrion, said in awe hugging her, “I didn’t… I didn’t think I’d see you again…”

“I’m sorry, Father,” Kallian cried.

“When they said all the Grey Wardens died at Ostagar, I prayed they were wrong,” Cyrion replied, “are you alright? What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you, of course,” Kallian sniffed.

“You’re so much like your Mother,” Cyrion replied petting her hair.

“Are you alright?” Kallian asked as he stood around awkwardly… he decided to muffle the mages screams and put the rest of the slavers out of their misery.

“Could be worse,” Cyrion sighed, “I could be on an auction block in Minrathous right now.”

“Where’s Valendrian?” Kallian asked looking around.

“They took him on the ships yesterday,” Cyrion replied sadly, “he’s probably halfway to Tevinter by now.”

“Why? He’s an old man… why would they take him?” Kallian asked, “and I don’t mean that in a rude way.”

“He’s educated and well-spoken,” Cyrion answered, “they probably want him for a house servant… I don’t even want to imagine what they would have done to you…”

“I don’t either,” he replied speaking up, “though I am quite sure I have an idea.”

“I’m sorry, I— Kallian? What’s wrong?” Cyrion asked as Kallian’s body started slumping down, “Kallian!?”

“No energy…” Kallian replied quietly before losing consciousness.

He smoothly scooped her up into his arms, he was worried about this… she hadn’t actually rested much since they got to Denerim… even after she’d been beaten and thrown into Fort Drakon, she’d immediately jumped out of a window to run to the Alienage.

“She’s just tired,” he replied reassuringly deciding to keep her bout through the Arl of Denerim’s estate and her short stay in Fort Drakon a secret for now.

“Ah… yes… she’s still retained her willful nature,” Cyrion sighed, “always running herself ragged…”

“Maker’s breath… what happened?” Alistair asked with a sigh as the rest finally caught up to them, “everyone was screaming.”

“…She was probably feeling sadistic enough to use that new poison she developed,” Elissa replied wryly, “though, I don’t blame her.”

Ah… that would explain why he didn’t recognize the symptoms of it… because it was something she developed all on her own.

He carried her home, following Cyrion as he guided them to his house.

Though, with the four of them working together, it seemed that it didn’t take long for them to do that at all.

“So… what was this about a wedding?” he asked after they’d all crowded into her home, and after introductions to her third cousin, Soris, had been made… Cyrion had elected to stay by her side for the moment, as she rested in the room both she and Shianni had once shared.

“Kalli was supposed to get married the day she was recruited into the Wardens,” Shianni answered, “her marriage got pushed up in an attempt from keeping that _shem_ Warden, Duncan, from recruiting her… But Vaughan came into the Alienage and kidnapped both brides and the bridesmaids… from what Soris said, they were about to tie her up by the time he got to her, said Vaughan liked the way she looked and wanted to save her for last… she desperately fought her way through the estate to rescue us… but…”

“Kalli is the most indomitable person I know,” Soris added, “but even she has her limits… and I think that day… pushed her too far past them.”

His anger spiked when he’d heard that they had intended to tie her up and save her for last… but now he knew.

He knew the reason behind the look of wide-eyed hysteria during the ceremony after they’d won the night at Redcliffe… her pale complexion and unfocused gaze when moving through both Castle Redcliffe, and the Arl of Denerim’s estate… it was because she was reliving her failure.

Her pain, was that she hadn’t been able to get to her beloved cousin in time… and his suspicions had been correct: her cousin had been raped.

Of course she would refuse to talk about it… it was because she didn’t think it was her story to tell. She had kept it hidden out of respect for her beloved cousin. She was involved, yes, but it wasn’t her pain, and she had no right to speak of it. It wasn’t her business to talk about, it was Shianni’s. It was Shianni’s pain. Shianni’s story. 

The only one who had the right to talk about it, was Shianni.

His Heart was always like that, gentle, kind, and considerate…

***

To protect her cousin from being yelled at by her Uncle and Soris… she decided to keep the fact that Kallian wrote her a letter to herself.

“I’m sooooo hunnngryyyyyyyyyyyy,” Kallian complained walking into the room.

“Haven’t they fed you?” Cyrion asked going to the kitchen.

“Yeah, but I had to go back to the Arl of Denerim’s estate,” Kallian replied.

“Did you vomit your guts out?” she asked.

“You know it,” Kallian replied snapping her fingers into a thumbs up, “but it worked out great because they thought I was sick and didn’t try anything extreme when I got thrown into jail, mya.”

“…Kalli,” she groaned her hand finding its way to her face, “I don’t know what to think about your priorities right now.”

“I don’t either,” Soris sighed, “but then I don’t think I ever knew.”

“My priorities today were: rescue Queen and find out if it was a trap, it was, then take the bait and get thrown into jail so that I could set up my own trap,” Kallian answered, “then eat, except they told me that something was going on in the Alienage, so I threw that idea out of the same window I jumped out of to get here faster.”

“Did you _have_ to jump out of the window?” Wynne asked.

“Yes,” Kallian replied blankly.

“So… wait, you’re deciding who the next King is?” she asked remembering how she had introduced Alistair.

“Kinda sorta… it’s weird, right? I’m not really sure how all this happened but it did, and I just went with it,” Kallian nodded, “I still don’t really know what’s going on, but hey, whatever, right?”

“How do _you_ not know what’s going on!?” Alistair asked incredulously, “ _you’re_ the one making all of our plans!”

“And how have _you_ not noticed that I’ve been making shit up as we go?” Kallian asked in return, “I’ve been literally like ‘what we’re doing that now? Well, okay then, I guess…’ this _entire time!”_

“Why am I not surprised?” she sighed.

“Because you shouldn’t be,” Kallian replied.

“So, wait how are you kinda sorta deciding who the next King of Ferelden is?” Soris asked.

“There’s a Landsmeet,” Kallian answered, “and, well, I need to make things happen.”

“And that’s something she’s always been good at,” Cyrion sighed re-entering the room with food, which Kallian began eating immediately, “don’t they feed Grey Wardens? You’re all bones!”

“She did most of the cooking,” Alistair commented dryly.

She still didn’t know what to think of this whole situation.

Her dumb idiot cat of a cousin returned home, which was great.

But she’d brought five Humans, a Qunari, and a Dwarf along with her… and an assassin who’d been hired to kill her, but was now madly in love with her… and she was repressing her own feelings.

She could tell that Zevran was absolutely completely and utterly in love with her cousin. It was easy to see, from the way he looked at her, to the way he carried her… he’d held her as though she were a precious treasure.

Wait… she had to give her the letter Nelaros had written for her.

Maybe that’ll help the poor man out… She wanted her cousin to be happy, but she knew that she was likely being hounded by the ghosts of her past… she probably blamed herself for Nelaros’ death. Among other things.

“Oi, stupid cat,” she said before shoving a letter in her face, “read this.”

“Did you _have_ to shove it _in my face?_ ” Kallian asked.

“Yes.”

“Who’s it from?” Kallian asked beginning to open it.

“Nelaros,” she replied and Kallian placed it back down on the table.

“Aren’t you going to read it?” Wynne asked.

“Nope,” Kallian replied shaking her head.

“Why not?” Leliana asked.

“Because no,” Kallian replied.

Kallian’s trauma… was worse than she’d thought. She knew her cousin was easily moved, and that simply meant that she was easily hurt… And since Nelaros died trying to save her, it was likely she was afraid to see what he’d written.

She’d been traumatized as well, but Kallian… Kallian was forced to kill for the first time, forced to desperately fight to save everyone… Kallian had been widely regarded as the protector of the Alienage, a title she knew and had accepted… but then to watch Nola and Nelaros die right in front of her? And then afterwards find her in the state she had been in? Her confidence in herself had been completely shattered… The only way to ever truly hurt Kallian was to hurt someone she loved and cared for… and on that day, it happened three times in the span of a few hours. 

It was hard to see her like this…

***

Stubborn and obstinate was the only way she knew how to be. She knew that one could even say that she was acting childish… and they’d be right. But she just couldn’t get their memories out of her head… not that she’s really tried… it’s not the kind of thing she should ever allow herself to forget… she also knew that they were all avoiding talking about the Purge… she saw the signs, she knew it happened. They were keeping a lid on it just so that she wouldn’t feel even shittier… except it just made it worse.

“If you won’t read it yourself,” Shianni replied snatching the letter from the table, “then I’ll read it out loud.”

“…” she glared at Shianni as she opened and closed her mouth a few times, and then clenched her jaw before snatching it from Shianni’s hands.

She stood up and returned to the room she had shared with Shianni and leaned back against the door sliding down as she took in a deep breath and held it… figures a letter would give her an anxiety attack… she had problems with phone anxiety in her past life too.

She was self-aware enough to know that she was being irrational… but she couldn’t help it… she heard scratching at the door and opened it to let Diana in before leaning back against it.

And she scowled when she felt that Zevran was on the other side of the door, she hated how good it felt, how _right_ it felt to be around him… Maybe she should just tell him the price of ending a Blight… But who knows what he’d do after he found out. She knew how he felt, and that emotion makes people irrational.

What if he decided to knock her out and smuggle her out of the country when he found out? So that he wouldn’t have a repeat of what happened to Rinna?

Because that would be… bad to say the least.

She took a deep breath and opened the letter.

_Kallian,_

She had to take a deep breath and stare at the ceiling for a few seconds as she mentally psyched herself up. She could do this, she’s been through so much lately, what’s a letter, right?

Right?

“Fuck me,” she sighed as Diana laid her head in her lap.

_If you’re reading this, then… I suppose I’m gone… Soris says that you’re actually rather skilled with a blade, and I hope that means that you, at least, will get out of this situation safely. I don’t really have much time to write this, we need to leave soon. But… even if I don’t make it, I want you to know that I don’t regret moving to Denerim to meet you, and I don’t regret falling in love with you. And that whatever happens now… I hope you know, that this wasn’t your fault._

_I pray that you’ll find happiness in the future… and if I didn’t make it, then please, be happy enough for the both of us._

_Love, always;  
—Nelaros._

***

His Heart had locked herself in her old room, only letting Diana inside with her… he could tell that she was in pain through the door. The others had decided to return to Arl Eamon’s estate for the time being, they’d be back in the morning to go through the slavers things to look for evidence to use against Loghain.

The door opened and his Heart breezed past him and out the door to the house… and of course, she began leaping onto roofs flowing over them.

“I lied, you know,” Kallian said as he sat next to her… for the first time since their fight, she wasn’t pushing him away.

“About a lot of things, yes, I’m aware,” he replied and he was shoved roughly, “which instance are you thinking of?”

“The Circle… the dream I had. I dreamt that he hadn’t died, that we were married… the demon chose well, I knew it was a dream but desperately wanted it to not be,” Kallian replied looking at her hands, “and then… I had to watch him die again… but this time, by my own hand.”

“What did the letter say?” he asked.

“Something that doesn’t matter,” Kallian sighed handing it over and then standing up and leaving, “I need to be alone.”

This… seemed like it was something that should have mattered, quite a lot. 

But that she didn’t think it did, meant that there was more than just her failure on that day plaguing her, it meant that there was more to it than just the events of her wedding day.

He was getting close.

He could feel it.


	54. How the Cat Loved the Crow

His Heart was proving to be an incredibly stubborn and difficult woman, so now, he was attempting to hunt down her cousin, Shianni, in hopes of perhaps learning something else regarding her.

“I was looking for you,” Shianni said as she saw him.

“Oh? What a coincidence,” he replied, “for you see, I was searching for you, as well.”

“Kalli’s being an idiot,” Shianni replied, “so I apologize on her behalf.”

“I do not think that there is a need for that…”

“No, she’s being an unreasonable idiot,” Shianni replied, “anyway, our main problem, is t—.”

“’Our’?” he found himself asking quickly cutting her off.

“Don’t even try to tell me you’re not interested in her,” Shianni scoffed, “more importantly: she knows that there was a Purge, and she’s blaming herself for that.”

_“You think he can recover from that? From that much death? From causing that much pain!? NO ONE CAN RECOVER FROM THAT, ALISTAIR! NO ONE!”_

She… had been living with that weight on her shoulders since the moment she’d left the Alienage. That’s why she understood the future that Connor would have faced… she had lied to Alistair, she perfectly understood the kind of pressure Connor would grow up under because she was living under it as well. 

In regards to herself, he already knew that she had a tendency to focus entirely too much on the negatives, and not nearly enough on the positives… if she even focused on those at all. Honestly, at this point, he was not so sure that the woman knew her own worth.

Actually, that was a lie, he _knew_ that the woman didn’t know her own worth.

She knew herself and her personality, skills, and qualities well… but beyond that… not so much.

“I see,” he replied.

“Basically, she’s living in the past,” Shianni replied, “but… if what both she and Alistair said earlier was true, and she’s going to be given a teyrnir… then she can make up for it… she’ll be in a position where she can give us a better life… so, do me a favor and help me make her realize that.”

…Shianni truly knew her cousin well.

Most people would think that someone were trying to use them in order to live better and would reject such a notion… but his Heart… she has always acted in a way to help others and help them live better lives, be they Human, Dwarves, Qunari, or Elves.

His Heart was living in the past… and what they needed to do, was make her see the future.

“I think I can manage that,” he grinned.

“Excellent,” Shianni grinned back, “also, good luck… she can get stupidly stubborn and obstinate about the stupidest things.”

“I’ve noticed,” he sighed, “but… I think she’s worth it.”

“Damn straight she is,” Shianni replied.

***

_I pray that you’ll find happiness in the future… and if I didn’t make it, then please, be happy enough for the both of us._

Too bad there was a problem with that, and that problem was the Blight… not only that but her conscience was in shambles.

She remembered her fight with Alistair after Connor’s death… she hadn’t been lying: no one can recover from causing that much suffering and pain to the ones they loved. No one… and especially not her.

And she was still _not_ letting Alistair die to the Blight.

Ferelden needed him.

Her? Not so much.

“Kallian,” Father said grabbing her attention as she did her morning stretches, “I have something for you.”

“Is that why you were pulling up the floorboards?” she asked.

“Yes…” Father nodded handing her a dagger, “it belonged to your Mother… and I think you should have it now…”

“I remember this…” she replied looking at the dagger, “Mother called it… the ‘Fang of Fen’Harel’.”

“It’s been in her family since the time of the Dales,” Father nodded, “I know you’ll do great things… you already do.”

“Thank you, Father,” she replied holding it to her chest.

“Kalli,” Alistair said entering the Alienage, “Arl Eamon said that Anora wants to speak with you.”

“Oh, I’m sure she does,” she replied flippantly, “I’ll talk to her later… I’ve got stuff and things to do.”

She had… so much work to do… Thanks to Anora, she’ll have a much easier time eroding her support… and thankfully, from what she’s seen, Anora has no spies in the Alienage. Which was an interesting discovery… how could she rule Ferelden as a whole if she couldn’t even get a handle on the _city she lives in?_

Some Queen she is, if she doesn’t even know what’s happening in her own fucking city… Her negligence has cost her her family, and friends… and she fully intended to make her pay for it in full.

“So, what teyrnir are you being given?” Shianni asked.

“Gwaren,” Alistair answered.

“How long do you think it’ll take to move the Alienage there?” Shianni asked.

“How should I know?” she asked in return, “why are you asking?”

“Because if you’re being made a Teyrna then you’ll probably make it a safe place for Elves,” Shianni answered.

Actually, she was more likely to burn it down to the ground and bring about suffering and death… her track record was horrid… and Shianni wants her to actually govern people and give them better lives? Everything she touches is destined to fail.

“I think you have far too much faith in my capabilities,” she sighed.

“I think you don’t have enough,” Shianni retorted.

“I’ll be back in another day, or two,” she sighed, “try not to get into too much trouble.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Shianni scoffed.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she sighed.

“Be safe,” Father replied patting her on the head.

She’ll come back to make medicines, soup, and blankets after she follows up with the nobles in the Gnawed Noble… once she’s done setting this up… winning the Landsmeet in two weeks will be child’s play.

***

They collected evidence of Loghain’s involvement with the slavers and Kallian decided to follow up with the Banns in the Gnawed Noble Tavern… and she seemed to have something up her sleeves since she made _absolutely_ sure to mention that Anora had called them into the Arl of Denerim’s Estate to rescue her because she feared for her life.

She knew what she was up to, too.

Kallian knew that Anora would speak out against them in the Landsmeet… and when she does, Anora would be digging her own grave as she proves to the entire Bannorn that she’s no better than Loghain… willing to use people and then throw them away once they proved no longer useful.

Anora… wouldn’t even know what hit her until it was too late.

She’d always known that making an enemy of Kallian would be a devastatingly dangerous mistake… but she hadn’t expected her to come up with this sort of plan.

She remembered her conversation with her after she had cured Arl Eamon… and really hoped that the day they needed to worry about her never came.

“But seriously, Kalli,” Alistair commented, “how did you avoid getting your bones broken?”

“There are two ways to mitigate blunt force damage,” Kallian replied holding up two fingers, “the first method is significantly easier to pull off than the second… it requires you to move with the blow. So by the time the hit connects your body is already moving in the same direction.

“The second one is significantly more effective, but also significantly harder to pull off… since it requires you to go against your body’s natural instinct: when you see a hit incoming… your body naturally wants to tense up in preparation for the hit, but this will actually make you take more damage… so you need to fight your natural instinct, and relax.”

“Relax?” she asked incredulously.

“Mmm… it works for the same reason it’s easier to break something hard and solid, rather than soft and flexible,” Kallian nodded, “so, when they were beating me up, I relaxed my body as best I could in order to mitigate most of the damage… of course, the best way to mitigate damage is to just not get hit… but there are circumstances where that’s not an option.”

“Like when you’re being thrown in jail,” Alistair commented dryly.

“Yeppers,” Kallian snapped her fingers into a thumbs up.

***

She’d somehow managed to forget that Riordan was a person who existed…

Though, now she had a way into the Warden Vault in Denerim… she’ll take Alistair over there later, more importantly… soup, blankets, and medicines…

She had a feeling that Shianni and Zevran were plotting something…

“Kallian,” Wynne called out to her drawing her out of her thoughts, “this is Ser Otto, and he is—”

“Blind,” she replied, “I’m sorry, but I don’t know any medicines to cure blindness… I would recommend acquiring a dog and training them to be your eyes.”

“No, that isn’t why he’s here,” Wynne sighed, “he’s heard rumors that there’s an enclave of maleficarum hidden in the Alienage, and since you so frequently like to say that no one knows Denerim as you do, I thought it best to bring him to you.”

“In the Alienage?” she asked furrowing her brows, “I know there was a warehouse full of them that I eradicated a few months ago… But I haven’t seen anything… then again, I’ve only been back like two days… have you found anything?”

“We’ve found no evidence of maleficarum here… but there _is_ something else here. This place… it’s scarred, like me,” Ser Otto answered, “when I came here, I immediately could feel an air of… hopelessness, despair. But over time, I’ve felt the wrongness runs far deeper than that.”

“What do you mean?” Wynne asked.

“I don’t know,” Ser Otto replied, “but the feelings of wrongness never wanes, and so I attempt to puzzle it out… would you mind if I imposed upon you?”

“I’ll gladly help,” she replied standing up, “considering that this is my home.”

“Thank you… it took patience, but some Elves opened up to me and I’ve heard their sad tales,” Ser Otto replied, “but I’ve found no real evidence to support my fears… ears alone have done all they can… I was hoping you could help me find anything out of the ordinary.”

“Do you know anything, Shianni?” she asked.

“No, I don’t,” Shianni replied shaking her head.

***

He watched her talking to a deranged beggar, someone she seemed to recognize.

He needed to get his Heart alone, and obviously not by pulling her aside… seeing how the last time he had tried doing so ended up going not so well. He followed her around, biding his time, waiting for an opportunity, making sure to always carry both the hairpin and earring wherever they went.

“A group of maleficarum? By the orphanage?” Kallian furrowed her brows.

“Kalli… there’s something you need to know,” Shianni said carefully.

“…What?” Kallian asked and he noticed her clench both her fists and her jaw.

“The orphanage… was hit the hardest during the Purge,” Shianni replied quietly.

“How… how bad was it?” Kallian asked.

“There were only four survivors,” Shianni replied, “and three of them got taken to Tevinter…”

This… could be bad. His Heart loved others, and always did everything in her power to aid those less fortunate, and he knew that she had a special place in her heart for children… Not only that but helping out at the orphanage was one of her duties before being conscripted into the Wardens.

“I… I see,” Kallian replied quietly, “I still need to go accompany Ser Otto…”

“Kalli,” Shianni said, “this isn’t your fault. It’s Vaughan’s… you’re a victim of circumstance, just like the rest of us.”

“It was still my actions,” Kallian replied, “I should have been the one to pay the price… not anyone else.”

He remembered a conversation he’d overheard between her and Alistair, about survivor’s guilt, and about how both she and Alistair were working through it… 

His Heart had never learned how to forgive herself…

Or if she had, she’d forgotten how to do so.

“Keep an eye on her,” Shianni said quickly pulling him aside.

“I had already planned to,” he replied before following her, Alistair, and Wynne into the orphanage.

He could tell that she was getting close to being at the end of her rope, that she was beginning to fray at the seams. Throughout his entire time knowing her, there were always times where she seemed particularly frail.

And he could tell that she was in pain.

“The… _feeling_ is intense here. This is the right place,” Ser Otto declared, “I know not if it’s the work of the maleficarum— but there is definitely _evil_ here.”

“One of the children must have come into their powers as a mage,” Kallian murmured.

“That would make the most sense, yes,” Ser Otto nodded, “you go first, I will follow.”

They fought through demon-infested halls, and he knew that if this were any other place, she would have been afraid… but right now? Right now she seemed at the brink of shattering into a thousand pieces.

Ser Otto died to a demon, and his Heart had fled from the orphanage once the demons had been dealt with. She was mentally, and emotionally exhausted, and so he ran after her, he had a feeling that if he didn’t, he would never see her again. That he would regret it for the rest of his life. He was quickly pointed in the direction of the house of their Elder, and when he slammed his way through the door, she had the blade of a dagger pointing towards her chest. Towards her heart.

And his.

He barely made it in time to attempt to wrestle it out of her grip, and she glared at him with a look of wide-eyed hysteria.

“What are you doing?” Kallian snarled with anger, attempting to get him to let go of her dagger, but he didn’t let go.

“No, what are _you_ doing?” he snarled right back at her finally managing to hit it from her grasp, she made a grab for it as it skid across the floor, so he pushed her down onto the floor and caged her within his arms. He made sure to lock her limbs down, anything less, and she’d be able to throw him off of her with ease. Her body still thrashed under his, attempting to regain its freedom.

“Why…?” Kallian murmured finally giving up.

“That should be _my_ question,” he sighed heavily resting his forehead against her shoulder.

“You… don’t understand…”

“Then explain it so that it will,” he snapped.

“I’m tired… Everything I touch is destined to fail… I corrupt everything I care for… I’m tired of it,” Kallian replied, “save Ferelden? Who am I kidding? I can’t even save myself.”

This was the true reason she wanted to die: she believed that no one could be happy as long as she lived. That all she was capable of was bringing people misery.

Her failed wedding… had broken her far more than anyone could have ever possibly imagined. To the point where it haunted her, at every turn. She blamed herself for it, for everything, she knew that there would be a Purge because of her, and knew that those she cared for would suffer…

“That is not true,” he sighed forcing her to look at him.

“If it weren’t for me, Marjolaine wouldn’t have gone after Leliana,” Kallian argued, “Taliesen wouldn’t have gone after you either… And Ostagar, King Cailan, Wynne…”

“Those would have happened anyway,” he sighed again, “and as for Taliesen… I told you: I didn’t want to die. What I wanted was to start again, and I cannot start again by going back to the Crows.”

“I suppose… you’re right,” Kallian sighed looking to the side, “and I can’t die now anyway… I have to die ending the Blight, after all.”

“…What?”

“To end the Blight, to kill an Archdemon,” Kallian replied looking him straight in the eyes, “a Grey Warden must be sacrificed… So it’s best we end this here.”

He searched her eyes, praying for some sign indicating that she was lying.

But his prayers went unanswered… that sign wasn’t there.

She was telling the truth.

And he felt the world fall out from beneath him.

“How— Are you certain?” he asked, “is that what that Warden, Riordan, told you?”

“He didn’t tell me anything,” Kallian replied her eyes lifeless, “I figured it out on my own… though, it makes sense… to kill a god it seems only right that the price be your life.”

“How… how long have you known?”

“Since a little before we cured Arl Eamon.”

He was going to lose her… Not to the Taint… not to herself… but to the Archdemon.

_“Zevran, if you’re not careful, you will lose her.”_

_“Kallian’s is a will strong enough to defy fates. If you want to save her, you’ll need one just as strong, if not stronger.”_

_“Because I don’t want to lose her either!”_

Morrigan knows something.

Morrigan loves Kallian like a sister… this was why she told him this.

But the witch clearly did not tell Kallian about it… and there must be a reason for that. A reason to keep this secret…

He must find out.

But for now…

He needed a will strong enough to defy fates.

And he understood what he truly needed now. 

What he needed, was a will strong enough to defy _her_ fate.

And that, was indeed something he had.

“Kallian… I need you to listen to me carefully,” he said his eyes locked on hers, “I lo—”

“No… don’t say it!” Kallian begged eyes widening in realization as her body began to thrash about wildly beneath him, he could see tears in her eyes, “don’t say it! Please! PLEASE DON’T SAY IT!”

“Kallian, I love you,” he confessed ignoring her pleas.

“No, you don’t!” Kallian sobbed hysterically as her body continued to thrash around, “you don’t! Youdon’tyoudon’tyoudon’tyoudon’t YOU DON’T!”

“I do,” he replied pushing forwards, “I love you so much, that the mere thought of not having you at my side is enough to make me feel as though my very soul is being torn apart.”

“No… stop…” Kallian whispered, “please… stop…”

“The Blight does not have to end with your life,” he replied.

“It does,” Kallian replied, “I’m not letting Alistair take that blow!”

“Once Alistair becomes king, he will allow the Orlesian Wardens into Ferelden,” he sighed finally, “and one of them will take the final blow for you.”

“…Why didn’t I think of that?” Kallian asked bluntly.

“That is what I would like to know,” he replied with another heavy sigh.

“It’s my loss then,” Kallian sighed, “you win…”

“Then…?”

“Yeah… I love you, too,” Kallian said her eyes full of love and adoration, “I love you more than words could ever say.”

With three simple words, she sent his heart soaring. 

The emotions bubbling up in his chest threatened to overwhelm him.

He loved her, he loved her so wholly, completely, and _viscerally_ that he could barely contain it.

“Then tell me with your body,” he replied as he pulled them both to their feet.

For the first time, she wasn’t pushing him away, she wasn’t running away from him.

“Don’t forget,” Kallian replied as he liberated her hair from its bindings, allowing it to cascade down as he ran his fingers through it, “it’s my first…”

“Yes, we will have time for me to teach you later,” he replied fingers moving to divest her of her shirt, “for now, I want you to simply feel.”

He groaned as he devoured her mouth, it was the first time she’d ever allowed him to kiss her, and she was tentatively kissing him back. He pulled off her shirt and tossed it to the side, her hands helped him find the knot that tied the cloth bindings she wrapped her chest in. He stepped back to watch as more and more of her body became visible to him, her breasts were nicely shaped, not too large, and not too small. After pulling the blanket from the bed, he pushed her down, before taking off his own shirt, and he was on her in seconds desperately kissing her, and his hands moved down her body as she moaned.

“Kallian,” he murmured as he moved his lips to her neck, and she let out a gasp.

“Zevran…” Kallian breathed as he moved down her body he pulled her pants and small clothes down and she lifted her hips to help him. 

He removed his own pants before leaning back to admire her and she moved her hands to cover herself.

“Let me see you,” he commanded and gently pried her arms away from her.

He truly had never seen a better woman, he moved back to her lips, trailing a hand down her body gently nudging her thighs apart. 

He wanted nothing more than to simply take her but it was her first time and he didn’t want to hurt her. 

“Can you feel how hard I am for you?” he asked bringing her hand down to his erection.

Her eyes slid from his face down his body to where he was holding her hand and she let out a surprised gasp. 

He was rather proud of his own size and girth, and if you add in his own skill as a lover…

“I promise: I won’t hurt you,” he stated, “trust me, and just feel my touch on your skin.”

She nodded and he gently pushed a finger into her and causing her to gasp and he distracted her by trailing his lips along her neck. Every gasp, every moan, every sound she made, shot straight to his cock. His finger moved inside of her, stretching her, as she got used to the intrusion, he added a second, thumb circling her clit. She cried out as he added a third. His other hand caressed her body trailing delicate touches along her skin that had her gasping as he pressed open-mouthed kisses to her neck trailing his lips along the shell of her ear.. He wanted to taste her but he knew her neck and ears were sensitive, that she was sensitive to hearing him saying her name and he wanted to distract her from her apprehension of what was to come.

“Kallian,” he murmured into her ear again and she moaned his name as his fingers sought that bundle of nerves inside of her. When he found it, she let out a keening moan as he felt her tighten around his fingers and her back arched off the bed as she coated his fingers in her juices.

“Zevran, I…” Kallian gasped hands moving to pull him to look her in the eyes, “I want you.”

“Are you sure you’re ready?” he asked.

“It’ll be better if you… all at once,” Kallian mumbled, “and then give me a second.”

He lubricated his cock with her slick and held himself in his hand to help guide himself inside her, taking a deep steadying breath before entering her in one smooth thrust. She let out a gasp as he groaned, forcing himself to stay still as he felt her clenching down on him, trying to get used to the feeling of being filled. 

She was so tight around him, part of him was worried that he hadn’t stretched her enough.

“Are you alright?” he asked trying to keep the strain out of his voice, “does it hurt?”

“No, it doesn’t hurt,” Kallian replied shaking her head, “just… give me a moment… I just… feel so… full…”

He let out a sigh of relief, she wasn’t in pain.

“Breathe, and try to relax,” he replied taking her hands and interlacing their fingers together, letting his other hand trail featherlight touches across her body, “and focus on my touch.”

She nodded as her muscles continued to contract around him. He wanted nothing more than to simply take her as he wanted, but he promised not to hurt her, so he tried to concentrate on anything other than the feeling of finally being inside of her, burying his face into the crook of her neck so that she couldn’t see the strain on his face. He’d thought the feeling of simply holding her in his arms was indescribable, but that was nothing compared to this. It felt as if this was how they should be, how they were meant to be. Wrapped up in each other's arms, and connected as one. She truly was made just for him, and it took all he had to wait for her to adjust to him. After almost an eternity he finally felt gentle hands coax his face from her neck.

“I’m okay, now,” Kallian said, “you don’t have to hold yourself back anymore.”

“Are you sure you know what you are saying, Kallian?” he asked and groaned feeling her tighten around him at hearing him say her name, and all she could do was nod in reply, “then don’t blame me for what happens next.”

He quickly set up a punishing pace, and she struggled to keep up, her hands awkwardly roaming his body where she could reach him. Grabbing her wrists, he pinned them down above her head, he didn’t want this to end too quickly, he wanted to savor this moment. He had had many lovers in his life, but despite her clear lack of experience, she was the best lover he’s ever held in his arms.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” he groaned, “wanted you?”

“I— I’ve wanted you too,” Kallian gasped, “but I—”

Her words were cut off, and her eyes widened as he hit a particular spot inside of her, and he angled his hips as he moved inside of her, making sure to hit that spot with every thrust, letting go of her wrists to move her body to help him. He drowned himself in the feeling of their bodies moving together. His eyes locked on hers as she struggled to keep them open, their breaths intermingled before their lips met.

She cried out as her body suddenly snapped around his, arms and legs wrapping around him pulling him to her and holding him tightly as her orgasm overwhelmed her. He groaned and felt himself come undone as her entire body clenched around him.

Finally, her limbs unraveled from around him, freeing him from her grasp.

“Are you alright, _mi amore?”_ he asked.

“Mmmm,” Kallian replied and he felt his arousal renew as he listened to her next words, “was that… enough for you?”

“Oh?” he asked breath husky with want, “was it not enough for you?”

“Use me to sate your desires,” Kallian replied looking him in the eyes, “and sate mine too…”

“Then I hope you don’t plan on getting any sleep tonight,” he groaned.

“Only if you don’t,” Kallian replied, “just… no anal.”

“I can live with that,” he replied with a toothy grin.

Once convinced to let go of her past, she truly was an affectionate lover who held nothing back. Something he didn’t mind in the least, she was inexperienced, yes, but their bodies fit against each other so well, and a lack of experience was something that could be easily remedied. And he would teach her, show her how to pleasure him, how to pleasure them both, where she liked to be touched… He had plans to explore her body, create a map of her, where she liked being touched, and where she didn’t… He didn’t want to force her into anything she wasn’t comfortable with. He loved her, and wanted to respect and revere her as she deserved.

He had held her in his arms before, and even back then, he’d felt that she was meant to be in his arms, and he was meant to be in hers. Being around her had always been comfortable, it was one of the reasons he’d constantly sought her out. Her presence had a soothing effect on him, though it was clearly not just him, considering the amount of people who simply found comfort in her kindness and words. 

Of course, she could quickly turn into a monster of unparalleled terror, but that was something reserved for people who did not deserve her kindness.

He spent hour after hour after hour making love to her in every single way he’d imagined, fantasized, dreamed about. He made her cry out, and _scream_ his name as he maneuvered her body around bringing them both to their peaks over and over again with very little in the way of breaks between, while being careful not to overstimulate her, not wanting to end this too soon. He marked her body with his fingers, lips, and teeth, feeling her nails drag across his back, her lips on his skin, her hands roaming his body. They both lost track of time as their bodies moved together, he didn’t even know how many times he’d hit his own orgasm.

Eventually, he pushed into her with one last powerful thrust, emptying himself inside of her one last time before collapsing on top of her. He still wanted, but they were both clearly far too exhausted to continue and he barely had enough energy to roll off of her, as she tiredly reached down from the edge of the bed and pulled the blanket up from the floor and he helped her pull it around them. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him and she burrowed her face into his chest as they both finally allowed sleep to overtake them.

He awoke to the sound of something hitting the floor, and a voice crying out in surprise. He shot up, eyes scanning the room until they landed on his treasure, who was on the floor. He could see evidence of their lovemaking decorating her skin, bruises from his fingers, and lips, marks from where he’d bitten her in the throes of passion, and her thighs coated in the dried aftermath of their lovemaking. He would have cleaned them both up, but he had been so exhausted by the time they were finished that he hadn’t had the energy to.

Of course, she’d left her fair share of marks on him as well, his body too, carried marks from her fingers, nails, lips, and teeth. When he’d sunken his teeth into the flesh of her shoulder, she’d returned the favor, the pain sinfully mixing in with their pleasure.

“Zevran! Quick! I need to!” Kallian said quickly, her voice was still hoarse.

Ah, right, of course, she would need to use the restroom after their activities.

And apparently, he’d fucked her so well her legs were still not working. With a chuckle, he picked her up and carried her over to the chamber pot in the corner of the room.

“Now cover your ears and go away!” Kallian demanded face completely red from embarrassment.

“If you insist,” he replied grinning at her.

He moved back to the bed, the sheets were still damp from the many, many hours they had spent wrapped in each other's arms.

“Ugghhhh,” Kallian groaned, “my leegggssss.”

“So, _mi amore_ ,” he asked, “how are you feeling?”

“Besides not being able to use my legs?” Kallian replied, “disgusting.”

“Disgusting?” he asked in alarm.

“Yeah… we are in desperate need of a bath,” Kallian stated, “Valendrian probably has clothes… somewhere… go draw us a bath.”

“So demanding, you are, _mi amore_ ,” he chuckled.

“You’re the only one between the two of us who can still walk,” Kallian retorted, “now go to the well outside, avoid the shit-eating grins on everyone's faces and draw us a bath!”

With a chuckle, he moved to follow her orders, noting how she’d said ‘us’ and not ‘me’.

“The Landsmeet is not for another two weeks or so, yes?” he asked carrying her to the bath, and she nodded, “good, I think you and I have some catching up to do.”

“Not the full two weeks, right?” Kallian asked in alarm as he got into the bath with her.

“Perhaps,” he replied with a grin.

“While I do agree that we have some catching up to do,” Kallian sighed, “I’m going to have to be able to use my legs again at some point… So give me a break for a bit… Actually, how much time has passed?”

“Just a day,” he answered.

“If we continue, I’d like to find an inn,” Kallian replied, her eyes sliding over to his, “I did tell you that I agree that we have some catching up to do.”

“Then you won’t be running from me anymore?” he asked wrapping his arms around her.

“I told you: it’s my loss… you’ve won,” Kallian replied pressing her lips to his in a kiss he that he deepened with a groan.

Victory had never tasted sweeter.

“Ah, by the way,” Kallian said tapping one of the many love bites he’d left on her, “no more of these… I don’t want people knowing about our sex life, and I also don’t like the way they look.”

“I’ll try… but I make no promises.”

“Well, do your best… that’s all I can ask for… though if you really can’t help it, just don’t leave them where people can see them.”

With how crazy she drove him, he wasn’t too confident in his ability to not leave them. But if that was what she wanted, then he would endeavor to do his best. True, the thought of marking her as his was alluring, as was the thought of making sure that everyone knew that she was taken… But she was not a woman who could be owned, she was his, but only because she’d given herself to him. He was the same, he was hers, but only because he’d given himself to her…

And there were other ways to make sure that the world knew that she was taken…

A method that he’d have never thought himself considering before in his entire life, though it was something that he knew would make her happy, and he wanted her happiness above all else.

***

_Finally, she could finally admit it, admit that she loved him._

_“So… you’re finally willing to accept everything, then?” the Masked Woman asked._

_She didn’t mind what the world had done to her, not anymore… because her past is what brought her to his side._

_“Yeah,” she nodded._

_“Hopefully, this time he won’t die immediately,” Nelaros replied causing the three to chuckle, “from now on… please be happy for the both of us.”_

_“I’m sorry… but thank you,” she replied watching as both figures disappeared into particles of light._

_And for the first time since her failed wedding, she truly felt at peace._

_She was one with the universe once more._

She had denied him when he’d wanted another round after their bath, she really didn’t want more people listening in than necessary. So, instead, they’d taken a nap, or at least, she did.

The first thing she’d noticed when she’d woken up, was that Zevran wasn’t there, and she couldn’t feel his presence around her. She could always tell when he was near, things felt right just by virtue of him being near her because it felt comfortable. She sat up in bed and looked around, yep, she was alone. He was there when she’d fallen asleep, so where did he go? She wasn’t really worried, she could probably hunt him down fairly easily if need be.

He’d fucking better be prepared to take responsibility for this.

Scooting to the edge of the bed, she tried seeing how her legs fared, they were a little wobbly but she should be able to walk to an inn with walls that didn’t allow sound to travel through them as much. Valendrian’s house was actually pretty soundproof, but still, she didn’t want to be in a place where people she knew, _knew_.

All she could do right now was wait for him to come back, so she pulled her clothes on. Perhaps, he went to grab clothes for both of them. Which would be fantastic, because they’d only had the clothes on their backs when they’d gotten started…

She felt her face burn as she remembered the feeling of being wrapped in his arms, of his hands on her body, of having him inside of her, of the warmth that spread throughout her every time he had filled her with his seed. How many times had they even…? To be fair, she hadn’t minded, he made her feel whole. She liked the way he made her feel.

He made her feel like she, the normal everyday Elven woman, Kallian Tabris, mattered.

Not Kallian Tabris, the Grey Warden, but she, in her base iteration.

Though he was most definitely the soul mate she was promised, so perhaps, that shouldn’t be surprising.

To be honest, she really had wanted him at various points, and part of her lamented having not given into him earlier. He really had affected her countless times throughout their time together, and she’d wanted to react, but she’d forced herself to not. She’d wanted to give in to him, so many times, but she just… couldn’t. She had been too worried about her friends and family here, in the Alienage, and truly, she had cause to worry about them and considering the Purge and the nest of slavers. 

Valendrian, had been taken away to Tevinter, and so had Valora.

And it wasn’t just that, it was the knowledge that she’d have to end the Blight with her life… She’d been so caught up in her own despair, that she hadn’t even considered the fact that the Orlesian Wardens would be allowed into Ferelden to help quell the Blight once Alistair became King… 

She even forgot Riordan was a person who existed… twice.

Something that was a little embarrassing in hindsight.

***

She noticed Alistair, and Wynne return to Arl Eamon’s estate, while she was quietly discussing the Landsmeet with Arl Eamon away from Anora and other prying ears.

“Where’s Kallian?” she asked.

“Probably with Zevran,” Alistair replied.

“Are they finally…?”

“I don’t know,” Alistair replied, “and that’s not something I want to think about.”

That was such an Alistair answer that she couldn’t help but laugh.

She was still going to absolutely destroy Loghain for what Howe did to her family, and from what she could tell, with his blessing… but life was good… she had a man she loved, and someone she found a sister in.

***

After leaving his Heart asleep in the home of the previous Elder of the Alienage, he was now sitting at a table, across from Cyrion, Shianni, and Soris.

Thankfully, the marks she’d left on him were neither very obvious nor hard to cover up. He thanked his darker skin tone for that since Kallian’s had stood out clear on her skin.

He felt his heart in his throat.

How exactly does one ask for permission for something like this?

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” Shianni asked bluntly.

“Oh! Yes, that I am,” he replied, “and… I am an assassin and the son of a whore… but would you… allow me to…”

Did he love her? No, what he felt for her was something much more than love. ‘Love’ while as strong of a word as it was, wasn’t strong enough to fully describe what he felt for her. 

It was nowhere near strong enough to describe his feelings for her.

_“I love you more than words could ever say.”_

He was the same.

There were no words that could ever fully convey his feelings for her.

Truly, she was everything he desired: powerful, graceful, elegant, beautiful, wild, and uncontrollable.

She was the epitome of everything he wanted.

“Ask her for her hand in marriage?” Shianni asked.

“Yes,” he replied carefully.

“Well, him being an assassin,” Soris replied, “I don’t know how to feel about giving my cousin to someone who is an assassin who _tried to kill her_.”

He had been worried about this.

“Isn’t it fine?” Shianni asked, “it means he can actually fight, and defend himself… which would keep him from _dying immediately_.”

“Shianni!” Soris frowned.

“What?” Shianni shrugged, “it’s true.”

“I picked her last fiance for her,” Cyrion said after a time, “and all I wanted, was for her to be happy… but all it ended up doing, was hurting her… please make my daughter happy… That’s all I ask. Of course, I know that there will still be times of hardship, there will still be times where you fight… but please, make her happy.”

“I… will try,” he replied.

“Kallian… doesn’t need someone who feels that it’s their duty to protect her, what she needs is someone who can stand at her side as an equal,” Cyrion said, “someone who can protect her heart. Things tend to affect her more than she lets on, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“Yeah,” Shianni nodded, “Kalli… gets moved easily, but that just means that her heart is more fragile than it looks. She has a tendency of focusing entirely on the negatives, and never on the positives… I don’t think she’s ever seen herself as good enough.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with giving your daughter to someone who once tried to kill her?” he found himself asking.

“You’re the person my daughter chose,” Cyrion replied with a smile, “and I’d rather have faith in the person she chose than not.”

“Plus… fighting with Kalli over it is practically impossible,” Soris added, “once she’s decided on something, your chances of getting her to not do it is practically non-existent.”

This… was very true. 

Honestly, even he was surprised with how he’d somehow succeeded in getting her off of her path to ending herself… he knew _how_ he accomplished such a feat: he had acquired a will strong enough to defy fates… but it still shocked him that it was something he’d managed… He had been taught to end lives, not save them.

***

The door opened, and she looked to see who’d come in that direction, looking away from the bookshelf she’d been perusing. She already knew who it was though, his stupid presence was the same no matter where they went.

“Welcome back,” she said moving over to him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her feeling his arms wrap around her holding her to him as he eagerly returned her kiss.

She didn’t have to hold herself back anymore, so she didn’t.

She wanted to touch him, she wanted him to touch her. She wanted to hold him, she wanted him to hold her. She wanted to kiss him, she wanted him to kiss her.

“Tell me that there is an inn you would be willing to stay at nearby,” Zevran replied breaking their kiss, she could see the want in his eyes, and she could feel a smile dancing on her lips.

“There is,” she nodded.

“Then what are we waiting for?” Zevran asked with a lurid smirk.

“You to return,” she replied with a coy smile, she grabbed his hand, “this way, hurry.”

“How saucy of you, my dear minx,” Zevran purred following after her, “who knew you could be so feisty?”

“Are you sure that you don’t just bring this side out of me?” she asked turning to smirk at him and he used their connected hands to tug her back to him.

“If you keep this up we won’t make it to the inn,” Zevran murmured, his voice husky in her ear sent a shiver down her spine.

She began leading him through the back alleys looking to arrive at their destination quicker. She didn’t trust her legs to be able to climb over rooftops at the moment. Once they got to the inn she’d wanted to get to, she requested a corner room and tried to ignore the stupid grin on the innkeeper's face as she handed her the key.

He pushed her up against the door as soon as the lock clicked in place, his lips on hers as his hands groped at her body, undressing her. Her own hands seeking to touch him, feel him, desperate to feel his skin on hers.

“I hope you’re prepared,” she sighed breathlessly, “because it seems that I can get rather possessive and greedy.”

“As can I, _mi amore_ ,” Zevran replied as they began moving towards the bed, “I am yours, just as you are mine.”

Her body bounced slightly as he pushed her down onto the bed, in his impatience, he roughly yanked her legs apart, and she helped guide him inside of her. He groaned as she captured his lips with her own, getting off on the feeling of knowing that she was the one driving him crazy, she was the one he lusted for, wanted. Her body continuing to greedily demand and accept his everything. She had once told Morrigan that she would probably be a possessive lover, and she hadn’t been lying.

His hands on her skin coaxed out her voice, and she felt her back arch when she felt his teeth on her ear. She trailed her hands along his back, trailing one of them across his shoulder, down his arm and interlacing their fingers together, feeling her pulse quicken when he responded in kind. 

She was still far less experienced than him, but she was learning, listening to him and making careful note of the sounds he made when she’d touched him a certain way, when his breath hitched as her hands danced across his skin. She was doing her best to learn how to pleasure him, just as he was spending time learning her body, where she was sensitive, where she liked being touched. She could tell he was memorizing her body and her reactions as he made love to her.

He took her powerfully, the pressure building up inside of her core becoming unbearable, until it finally broke, leaving her in a cascading wave of pure bliss. She could faintly feel him continuing to move as her body tightly gripped his until under her haze of pleasure, she felt warmth spread out within her, filling her.

Gentle fingers brushed aside her sweat-soaked locks of hair when she was finally allowed to come down from her high as loving eyes gazed into hers. His hands caressed her face as he claimed her mouth, moaning into her lips as she returned his kiss.

She did so love his hands, and how he always held her, and touched her carefully.

Well, unless they were both completely taken over by their lust, needs, and desires for each other. Her body was covered with bruises, bite marks, and welts from when he couldn’t hold himself back anymore.

***

He gazed at the naked woman sleeping in his arms, hair a rich scarlet that contrasted against almost pale skin, who had eyes of emerald that glinted like precious stones. He finally had her, she was finally his. But did he really deserve her? Was he really worthy of her? Was he good enough for her? Though, Shianni, who was apparently the protector to her chastity had approved of him.

Still, he was an assassin, a murderer, and a liar who had seduced his way into a target's bed to kill them in exchange for money. 

She was a healer, a beacon of hope, and someone filled with an almost alarming amount of love and compassion.

Did he truly deserve to lay claim to her?

Sure, he had the blessing of her family, but was this truly alright?

“Mmmm,” Kallian groaned starting to stir, “good morning.”

“Good morning, _mi amore_ ,” he sighed.

“What’s wrong?” Kallian asked wiping the sleep from her eyes.

“I am… not quite so sure about this anymore, _mi amore_ ,” he admitted.

“Not sure about what?” Kallian replied and then her eyes started to water, “oh no… are you having second thoughts already? Am I that undesirable?”

“No! You are very desirable,” he sighed wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I… I am not quite so certain that I deserve you, I am not a good man, _mi amore_.”

“Why does it matter?”

“…What?”

“Why does it matter if you deserve me or not?” Kallian replied flatly, “you just said it yourself: you’re not a good man. So why does it matter?”

“I am not following.”

“Do thieves wonder if they’re worthy of their ill-gotten riches? Do bad men really ask if they’re worthy of the things they take? No, they don’t,” Kallian replied with a grin, “so, why are you wondering if you’re worthy or not? Only good men contemplate their worthiness, and if you’re thinking about me enough that you’re worried about that, then you are good enough for me. Stupid. Not only that… but the way you handle me… you always treat me with such care, you know? Like you’re handling something important… So why does it matter if you steal me away? Hm? Bad men do what they want and don’t care, they take what they want and don’t care. Dummy.”

He stared at her, before returning her grin. That’s right, bad men do what they want, so why should it matter whether he’s worthy of her or not? With a growl he closed the distance between them, pushing her back down onto the bed, his lips on hers.

“Besides,” Kallian said with a sly smirk before flipping them over so that she was on top of him, a hand lining him up with her, “I’m not a good woman either.”

They both moaned as she lowered herself onto him, his hands gripped her hips as she rode him. He bucked his hips, and began thrusting into her from below, and they both cried out as she fell back down onto him. He flipped them over, maneuvering her body so that he could fuck her as deeply, and as powerfully as he could bringing them both to the highest peaks of pleasure they could ever possibly reach. Hands roaming each other's bodies, as she moaned, cried out, _screamed_ his name as he tasted her, his mouth on her skin sucking at her flesh, marking her as his. She pulled his face to hers and brought their mouths together.

He felt her tighten around him as she came, he pushed into her with one final thrust before groaning as she milked him for all he was worth, prolonging her own orgasm as his hips lazily rut against hers. When she finally came down from her high, he brushed aside her sweat-soaked locks of hair from her face and kissed her, before wrapping his arms around her and rolling them over so that she was laying on top of him. She had always been light, almost weightless.

“Zevran, I’m only gonna say this once because it’s so cheesy I need a glass of wine to go with it,” Kallian said as her gentle hands caressed his face, “don’t forget… you were the one who saved me… you were the one who broke me free from the shackles I stubbornly carried around. If anyone deserves me, is it not you? And I have no doubt, that the only one who could have done such a thing, is you. Only you. Never forget that… The only one who I’d ever _want_ to give myself to, is you.”

He couldn’t stop the chuckle that erupted from his chest. He was sure about it now more than ever: there was nothing in any existence that would be able to keep him from her. 

He was also rather confident that no one else could ever know her as he does, could ever truly understand her as he does, could ever even hope to handle her in her entirety as he can. He was confident in this because he was the same, no one could ever understand him as she can, no one could ever know him as she does… they were similar in ways that allowed them to connect and understand each other and different in ways that allowed them to truly see and appreciate one another…

They had both once been broken, but they had been reforged in each other's arms.

And neither of them had ever been stronger.

***

They’d spent three days making up for lost time… he was… a demanding lover.

Though, it seemed that she was just as demanding.

She loved the way he held her, the way he touched her, the way he said her name, the way he looked at her, the way he kissed her, the way he felt inside of her.

She could feel his love in his every action, his every word, his every touch, she could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice.

And she wanted it, craved it, _demanded_ it.

Had she always been this greedy?

Probably.

“Mmmm… wanna hear something definitely disgusting and potentially stupid?” she hummed as he held her from behind.

“Should I be concerned?” Zevran asked.

“I think…” she trailed off finding the words stuck in her throat, “you know what? Never mind, it’s so embarrassing I might actually die.”

She suddenly found herself on her back, pinned down beneath him.

“Well, now I’m curious,” Zevran grinned at her, her face was burning and she couldn’t hide it, so instead she turned her face to look to the side.

“I think…” the words still didn’t want to come out, she steeled her resolve and turned her face back to look him straight in the eye, “I think you’re my soul-mate.”

Zevran suddenly released her to sit back on his haunches, and her heart leapt into her throat. She watched him get up from the bed, and go over to his pack.

Should she have not said that?

“Kallian,” Zevran said after rummaging around in his pack and she saw two familiar objects in his hand, “will you accept these this time?”

“I’d love to,” she replied feeling a smile dancing on her lips, “though, I don’t have pierced ears… or a pierced ear.”

“That can be fixed,” Zevran replied.

“True,” she replied.

“Are you ready?” Zevran asked, a needle in his hand.

“Don’t tell me when you’re going to do it,” she complained, “just do it… surprise me.”

“If you insist… try not to move,” Zevran replied and she shuddered as she felt his fingers on her ear, and she let her mind wander to who knows where, “…it’s finished.”

She felt an unfamiliar weight added to her ear and turned to look at him.

“Did I hurt you?” Zevran asked.

“No, I’m better at handling these things if I don’t know they’re happening,” she replied shaking her head.

“Kallian, once this business with the Blight is over,” Zevran said summoning up his courage, “let’s get married.”

“Whoa… that wasn’t even a question,” she replied her face red, “and I don’t even know how to react… but, I’d love to.”

“Well, I already knew you would say yes.”

“Whoaa… I mean, you’re not wrong,” she huffed a laugh, “but still… I have one condition.”

“Name it and it’ll be done.”

“I don’t want to lose you like I lost him.”

“And I don’t want to lose you like I lost her,” Zevran replied.

She lost Nelaros due to circumstance, due to him needing to save her from being kidnapped to him not knowing of her capabilities.

He lost Rinna due to the Crows, due to what he was, due to his job.

“Ah… but don’t forget Wardens…” she said, “we’ll eventually die from the Taint.”

“Then we’ll look for a cure,” Zevran replied his hands on her face.

“And if we don’t find one?” she asked.

Though, she had a few ideas… she’d just need a crap ton of blood and a half dozen skilled and open-minded mages.

“We will… figure out something,” Zevran sighed.

“I have an idea… if we don’t find one,” she hummed, “when I go for my Calling… why don’t you just come with me?”

“What?” Zevran asked.

“Why don’t you just come with me?” she repeated, “we can kill a bunch of Darkspawn together on our way out… die in battle together… what’s more romantic than that? Actually never mind, I just realized that I basically just asked you to di—”

“That is a good idea,” Zevran replied after cutting her off with a kiss, “I do not think I can live without you, _mi amore_.”

“Then… if you decide somewhere down the road that you’d rather live on,” she replied, “I won’t blame you for changing your mind.”

“I would never,” Zevran replied, “if it means being with you until the end of our days… any price is worth the risk.”

“Well then, I’m glad we got that out of the way quickly,” she laughed.

“Yes,” Zevran replied laughing with her.

It was something that was them, a very them way of getting through something.

“We should… probably let the others know we’re still alive,” she sighed, “and also have a strategy meeting about the Landsmeet… at this point, I don’t even remember the last time I’d seen them at this point.”

“I suppose,” Zevran sighed.

“You can’t keep me all to yourself,” she replied wryly, “we’ve got obligations… or at least, _I_ have obligations.”

“I know, I know,” Zevran sighed again.

“Then again,” she sighed, “I’m not really looking forward to seeing them again… considering how long… we’ve been… making… up for lost time.”

“So bashful, you are,” Zevran chuckled, “you were not nearly as bashful when we—”

“Well, I think I’m satisfied,” she said standing up.

“I’m not,” Zevran replied tugging her back down and pulling her beneath him, “I am nowhere near satisfied.”

“It’s been _three_ days, love,” she sighed but allowed him to undress her anyway, “we have to—”

“Later,” Zevran murmured in her ear, “for now, you are mine, Kallian.”

She felt his lips and tongue travel the length of her body, and she gasped. Her eyes met his as he pressed a kiss to her inner thigh with a grin, and she felt her body tense in anticipation. His breath on her sensitive flesh made her own hitch, as she felt his tongue on her. Her body chased the pleasure he offered her, wanting more, seeking release from her prison of pleasure. Her back arched as she rode waves of pure ecstasy, and her eyes met his as she reached the shore, he was licking his lips with a smug grin on his face and her weak arms pulled him up to her and his mouth latched onto her ear.

“I hope you don’t think I’m finished.”

“Of course not.”

He was everywhere all at once, an engulfing warmth that threatened to completely consume her from the inside out. 

He was her world. 

And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

***

It’s been four days, and they should probably return to the others soon, though such thoughts were hard with his treasure sitting in his lap, lips and tongues dancing together. His arms wrapped around her, and hers around his neck, her chest pressed against his. He was already hard, and wanting, but rather than taking him into her as they both wanted, she ground herself against him, causing him to let out a groan of frustration into her mouth. His hands slid down to grip her ass and lift her up, separating their mouths, before he dropped her back down onto his length, causing them both to moan. He thrust up into her as he moved her up and down on his cock, his lips moved to her neck, and collarbone, sucking at her skin as she bared her neck to him.

His name on her lips, the sounds she made, the smell, and taste of her functioned as a dizzying aphrodisiac as he got off on the fact that he was the one she wanted, he was the one who had reduced her to this mess of desire, lust, and want. He was the only one who was allowed to take her, to claim her, to hold her. She allowed no one else to hold her like this, to touch her like this. Many had wanted her, chased after her, and only found their deaths, but not him, he was allowed to touch her, hold her, kiss her, make love to her. He was the one she moaned for, begged for, lusted for, _craved._

A fact that only served to heighten his own arousal.

He leaned back, and she followed him, as he flipped them over so that she was under him once again and maneuvered her body so that he could thrust as deeply into her as possible before finding his release and bringing her with him.

He loved her.

He loved her voice, he loved her smell, he loved her taste, he loved the way she felt, he loved her eyes, and he told her so with his body, and she told him with hers.

He was growing addicted to her, the feeling of their bodies joined together as they made love to each other, the feeling of her whole body gripping his in the throes of passion, the sound of her voice, moaning, crying out, and _screaming_ his name.

And he could tell she was growing addicted to him.

“You learn too quickly, _mi amore_ ,” he groaned as he felt her lips on his neck pressing open-mouthed kisses to his skin.

“Is that a problem?” Kallian asked nipping at his skin, “I thought you weren’t satisfied.”

She seemed to like playfully nipping at him.

She truly was like a cat.

“ _Mi amore_ , I will never be satisfied,” he replied, “but you are a demanding lover.”

“You, are even more so,” Kallian replied, “or are you finally willing to rejoin the rest of the world?”

“Hmm… perhaps after one more round,” he grinned, pressing her down into the bed again to lay claim to her body once more. 

Her arms came up to wrap around his neck pulling him down to bring their faces together. He loved the feeling of her hands on his skin, her searing touch cleansing him of the sins of his past, claiming him as hers. Repainting him in her colors as she trailed her fingers along his flesh, the lines of his tattoos and muscles… 

She really did seem to like his muscles.

He no longer minded that he had once been a Crow.

His past is what brought him to her side.

“Mmm… there’s something we should discuss, love,” Kallian said as they were redressing themselves.

“What is on your mind, _mi amore_?” he asked.

“What are your thoughts on children?” Kallian asked.

This caused him to pause in his motions.

Children…

The idea charmed him, but he was worried about his own parenting abilities, he was sure she would be a fantastic Mother, but… he was the son of a whore who was sold to the Crows to become an assassin. The thought of being a terrible Father terrified him. Not only that, but the Crows would likely come for him again.

“If you don’t want them then that’s fine,” Kallian said, “I’m not going to force it.”

“I am just… worried,” he replied, “I am not so sure that I could be a good Father.”

“I think you would make a good one,” Kallian smiled, “and it’s not like you’ll be a single parent… I’ll be there too.”

“My Mother died in childbirth, if you recall,” he pointed out, “I would rather not lose you as well.”

“You can just say no,” Kallian replied dryly.

“No, no, I do like the thought of it,” he admitted, “but… I am just concerned, _mi amore_ … did we not just say that we couldn’t live without each other?”

“Though… a child would also be proof that I survived the Blight,” Kallian mused thoughtfully, “and that you somehow, actually managed to stop the Willful Cat from having her way.”

“That is true,” he chuckled, “there is also the matter of the Crows as well… They will come after me.”

“And then they’ll die,” Kallian shrugged, “how long are you going to allow them to have power over you? To dictate how you live your life?”

A will strong enough to defy fates indeed, she was wild, willful, and uncontrollable. One of the many qualities of hers that drew him to her. They had similar lives, had both lived under an intense oppression that would have left their companions reeling. Yet despite that, she was still full of life, unafraid, and free.

And she was teaching him to be the same, by simple virtue of being near her.

“Cats do trump Crows, as you so frequently like to say,” he mused.

“And it’s not like we don’t have allies,” Kallian pointed out, “do you think Ali-butt, Elissa, Leli, and Wynne would just let them walk all over us? I mean, if anything, I’m sure we can ask Shayle to go on a rampage and squish all of them too.”

He remembered how she had once taught Alistair that it was better for a leader to be loved than feared. She cares for everyone, and likewise, everyone cares for her similarly. The bonds of friendship, loyalty, and love that she has nurtured run deep and go both ways, just as everyone would do anything for her, she would do anything for them.

“Well, it’ll have to wait until the Blight’s over anyway,” Kallian added, “otherwise… it might get a little dicey… So we’ll have time to consider it.”

He captured her lips in a kiss, and his fingers began skillfully undressing her again. They still had time before the Landsmeet, surely the others could understand, he’d been wanting this for such a long time. Wanted her for such a long time, and she didn’t seem to be protesting, her fingers already undressing him as well.

“I thought you were ready to rejoin the rest of the world?” Kallian asked breathlessly.

“You don’t seem to be complaining,” he grinned pushing her back down onto the bed.

“Well, what’s another round or so?” Kallian asked returning his grin as she pulled him down to her.

Thinking about it, she didn’t seem to mind him dominating her, to an extent. What that extent was, he had no idea.

“I have a question: how would you feel about bondage?” he asked.

“No, I can’t touch you if I’m tied up… also, I don’t handle having my freedom taken from me like that well.”

Ah, yes… he had a feeling that if she were to be tied up, she might angrily bite out his throat. Especially considering the ferocious beast she’d turned into when she had been injured.

And he did like feeling her touch on his skin, marking his body as hers.

“What if you tied me up?”

“Then you can’t touch me, and I want to feel your hands on my skin.”

“Oh? You want to feel my touch on your skin, do you?” he asked with a lurid grin.

“Of course I do… I love your hands, and I love the way you touch me. I always have,” Kallian replied taking his hand in hers and pressing it to her chest as she trailed the fingers of her free hand across the lines of one of his tattoos, “wouldn’t you rather touch me? Feel me? Caress my skin? Manipulate my body to your wishes?”

The look in her eyes told him that she knew what she was doing.

This woman… was ruining him in the best way possible.

She easily fanned the flames of his lust, filling him with want, need, and desire.

If he hadn’t, rather clearly, been the first person to have ever bedded her, he would have never believed her to have no experience. He had thought of himself as a master of seduction, but she was a masterpiece. Every look she gave him, every word she spoke, and every touch was designed to seduce him. To drive him absolutely wild, to lust for her, and it was beyond successful.

“I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into,” he growled into her ear causing her to shudder.

“Oh? What I’m getting myself into?” Kallian asked with a smirk, “I thought I was getting you into me.”

It was times like these, where he truly noted that her hair was not simply red.

It was a rich scarlet.

Like a river of blood.

Like sin.

 _She_ was like sin.

A sinful temptress, but Maker, did he love her.

He gripped her tightly as he roughly entered her again, causing her to gasp as he began to pound into her. Hands groping at her body, as he had his wicked, wicked, wicked way with her. Ravishing her, spoiling her, filling her mind and body with him, worshiping her as he claimed her again and again.

Her body was a temple, and he, her most devout follower.

She was everything holy and unholy at the same time.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays, your present is smut... Also finally progress.


	55. How the Cat Prepared for the Landsmeet

She decided to change her hairstyle since she wore it that way to remember what she’d lost… but now, it was probably time for her to remember what she’s gained…

“What’s wrong, _mi amore_?” Zevran asked, and she couldn’t help the shiver at the fact that his voice was directly next to her ear and she couldn’t help the scowl at his chuckle.

“I’m thinking about a change of hairstyles,” she replied.

“What’s wrong with your current one?”

“I wore it to remember what I’d lost,” she replied, “make-up too.”

“Ah… I see,” Zevran hummed thoughtfully, “may I?”

“Sure.”

She closed her eyes as she felt his hands gently running through her hair… it reminded her of when he had first given her the hairpin.

“…I’m sorry I was acting like a brat and gave the hairpin back,” she said sheepishly, “you didn’t deserve that.”

“And you didn’t deserve to have your wedding crashed and ruined before being forced into becoming a Grey Warden… of which I am grateful. So I think we are even, yes?”

“Will you go somewhere with me before we return to the others?”

“When have I not?” Zevran asked after tying her hair into a high ponytail after making two braids that ran along the side of her head.

“…True, you do have a habit of following me wherever I go.”

“So, where did you have in mind?”

“Graveyard,” she replied holding up the ring she’d gotten from Nelaros, “I think… it’s fine to bury these feelings of mine, and lay them to rest.”

“Are you certain you wish to do that?”

“Mm… I’ve been hiding behind his memory… it’s time I let him rest.”

***

It’s been _days_ since _anyone’s_ last seen either Kallian, or Zevran.

_Days._

And now Zevran was waltzing into Arl Eamon’s estate with Kallian clinging to his back like a backpack as if it were normal.

…Then again, they had both always been kind of weird.

He did notice that she was wearing her hair differently… and that she was wearing her hairpin again.

“Ah… did all of her repressed feelings spill forth, then?” Elissa asked with a coquettish grin, “and so you needed to make up for lost time?”

“Yes,” Kallian replied with zero hesitation.

“I expected that from Zevran,” Elissa replied her face flushing red, “but not from you.”

“Zevran… shouldn’t you let her down?” Wynne asked with a sigh.

“She needs to let herself down,” Zevran grinned lifting his arms away to help demonstrate his point, “she’s holding herself up all on her own.”

The smile on his face was pissing him off, though, he’d never seen Kallian look so happy, content, and at peace throughout his entire time knowing her, so at least there was that.

With a sigh, Kallian got down from his back and moved to sit down on one of the sofas in the room.

“So, what have we missed?” Kallian asked crossing one leg over the other, “considering it’s been five days… something must have happened, right?”

“Oh, so you _do_ know how long you two have been missing,” he sighed and Kallian leaned her head on Zevran’s shoulder after he sat down next to her that smile never leaving his face, “and there are still some of our allies on their way.”

“So… Kalli,” Elissa said, “I don’t remember you having an earring the last time I saw you.”

Kallian and Zevran shared a look and interlaced their fingers together.

“We decided to get married after the Blight,” Kallian replied.

“That’s wonderful news!” Leliana said excitedly.

“Well… I suppose as long as you’re happy,” Wynne replied.

Diana gave a happy bark of approval.

“Oh, so you approve?” Zevran asked.

Diana gave another bark of approval.

“Wait… I just realized: doesn’t that mean Zevran’s going to become a Teyrn?” he asked.

“That’s hilarious!” Kallian laughed, “ah… we should probably go tell my family… They probably won’t approve…”

“Actually, I made sure to properly ask for permission,” Zevran replied.

“Oh… wow,” Kallian replied in shock, “whoa… my emotions are all over the place.”

“In a good way, yes?” Zevran asked.

“Yes,” Kallian smiled.

“Maker’s breath… you two are disgusting,” he groaned.

“Eh, deal with it,” Kallian replied bluntly, “my rebellious phase is over.”

“Your rebellious phase?” Leliana asked.

“My religion… you see, my religion is that I am one with the Universe: I move and flow as it does,” Kallian explained, “but… with what happened on the day I got kicked out of Denerim… I was angry, spiteful, and in complete and utter denial and disbelief and thus completely refused to accept that that was what it wanted… I told you: I was being a rebellious brat, and that we weren’t on speaking terms because we wanted different things. I wanted a peaceful life, and apparently it wanted me to become a Grey Warden. I was not okay with that… So basically, all this means, is that I’m finally willing to accept everything and move on.”

“On one hand, I’m happy for you,” he remarked, “on the other? I don’t know how to feel about the fact that the _assassin hired to kill us_ was the one to help you move past it.”

“He assassinated the ghosts of my past,” Kallian replied brightly.

“Oh! I rather like the sound of that,” Zevran replied, “you are so clever _mi amore_.”

“Right?” Kallian grinned.

They were making him sick, like actually, physically, sick. 

Though, Kallian did look, sound, and act freer, as if a huge weight had disappeared from her shoulders. Like she wasn’t going to allow anything to hold her back anymore.

“Well… hopefully, with this, we’ll be prepared for the Landsmeet,” he sighed.

“We are,” Kallian replied firmly, “we’ve all come a long way since we began this journey… we’ve grown, stronger, tougher, wiser… Loghain hasn’t. I’m fairly certain he’s still stuck in the past, still stuck in the mindset that Orlais wants to conquer Ferelden.”

***

They really have come a long way since they began this journey.

She, herself, had started it off as a broken shell of a woman.

“By the way, Kallian,” Elissa said, “do you know an Elven child by the name of Amethyne?”

“Yes, her Mother went to go work for… who was it again?” she hummed in thought.

“Lady Landra,” Elissa answered, “the wife of Bann Loren…”

“That’s right!” she replied her fist into her palm, “why?”

“Her Mother died… in the attack on Castle Cousland,” Elissa replied quietly, “so I wanted to…”

“Yeah, I can take you to where she’s staying,” she nodded solemnly.

“Thank you,” Elissa replied and they got ready to head back to the Alienage.

Come to think of it… she should probably say ‘Hi’ to Alarith… and tell her family the good news. Just because they gave him their blessings, doesn’t mean they know she said yes. Or something…

They probably know.

***

According to Morrigan, the next step in their plan to save his Heart, should the need arise, involved Alistair.

He was not expecting that one.

Though, she had not told him what she needed him for.

Still, he would probably never forget the look of absolute relief on her face… she truly did not want to lose her either…

He wasn’t expecting that one either.

“Hi hi, Alarith!” Kallian said cheerfully after leaving Elissa and Alistair with Amethyne, “your favorite annoyance is back!”

“By Andraste’s burning britches! It really is you!” Alarith replied, “I should have known you’d survived…”

“Oh?”

“It’s always difficult to get rid of pests,” Alarith replied.

“Whoa, how nostalgic,” Kallian replied in awe, “it’s been a while since I’ve been insulted like this… how humbling.”

“Welcome home,” Alarith chuckled, “I thought everyone was going crazy when they said you came back and sent those Tevinters running.”

“A cat’s job is to take care of mice,” Kallian shrugged.

“So, who’s he?” Alarith asked gesturing to him.

“Ah, my name is Zevran Arainai,” he replied introducing himself, “and also her future husband.”

“…You’d better treat her right,” Alarith replied.

“Whoa, no snide comments on how amazing it is that there’s someone willing to marry me without being set up?”

“Considering how your last wedding went,” Alarith replied, “I figured you could do without it.”

“Well… when you put it that way,” Kallian sighed.

“Try not to die immediately,” Alarith said turning to him, “I don’t think she’ll be able to handle another groom dying on her.”

“I don’t think so either,” he replied.

“How did you two meet?” Alarith asked.

“He was hired by Loghain to assassinate me,” Kallian replied, “so… I don’t think he’ll die immediately.”

“Kallian… I know you’re desperate,” Alarith said quietly, “but are you sure you’re making the right decision?”

“I’m gonna trash your store,” Kallian replied holding up a fist with a smile.

“Is your Father going to be okay with this?” Alarith asked.

“Apparently, he properly asked for permission,” Kallian replied.

“And he gave it to him?” Alarith asked.

“I know, crazy right?” Kallian replied, “well, I’d better go tell my Father.”

“Don’t be a stranger,” Alarith replied waving.

The relationship between the two seemed to be more of a sibling one than anything… even if it were one-sided on Alarith’s part, she was already his. 

He knew that she loved him, him, and only him… and even if that did change one day in the future, all he needed to do was make her fall in love with him again. Something he was confident in his ability to do… he wasn’t a good man, and neither was she a good woman. She’d said it herself: thieves don’t question their worthiness for their ill-gotten gains, so why should he?

Plus, he was her soul-mate, and she was his.

***

He needed to talk to Kallian about her true feelings for the Grey Wardens… they were meeting back up with her and Zevran after they finished doing some things in the Alienage.

Probably telling her family the good news.

It still shocked him that they were actually a thing now… though Elissa seemed happy that they were a thing… as did Leliana…

And shockingly, Morrigan.

“I still can’t believe Kalli and Zevran are actually going to get married,” he commented.

“Are you jealous of Zevran?” Elissa asked.

“No! No, no, no!” he replied, “there is no way I would ever be jealous of Zevran… she’s too… her… for me.”

“Willful? Wild? Uncontrollable? Malicious?” Elissa offered and he nodded, “I think that’s what Zevran loves about her.”

“I think he’s the only one who’d be willing to deal with that too,” he added, “or would even be able to.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“He tried to kill us… do you think her family knows?”

“Most likely… she did mention to Shianni that he’d tried to kill her… she’s also been pretty open about the fact that Zevran tried to kill her.”

“True…” he sighed.

“He makes her happy, so let’s just be happy for them.”

“I suppose…”

“Though, speaking of her malicious and sadistic side… I almost feel bad for Loghain and Anora…”

“I’ve been trying not to.”

They saw the two outside of the warehouse where the Grey Warden vault was and Kallian was happily clinging to Zevran’s arm… they were disgusting.

“How did it go?” Elissa asked.

“Shianni won’t help me sew another wedding dress,” Kallian answered, “I’ve also realized that people are going to see me as a power-hungry ambitious Elven woman who’s using you to further my own agenda… whatever that is.”

Kallian was one of the least ambitious people he knew, all the woman had wanted was to simply protect her family and live a mostly normal life… but of course, other people wouldn’t be able to see that. They didn’t know the Kallian that he and the others did, all they would know is that she helped him take the throne.

“…I’m guessing there’s nothing we can do about that,” he sighed.

“It takes time, patience, and understanding to change hearts,” Kallian replied, “forcing a change like that is bad… we’ll cross that bridge when we get there… though there _is_ something you can do about it.”

“What?” he asked.

“Not make me teyrna,” Kallian answered seriously as they entered the warehouse.

“Nope, it’s already settled,” Elissa replied.

“Gross,” Kallian replied with a frown as she took out a piece of paper, “let’s see the code is… ah, there we go.”

“I’ve never been here before,” he said looking around.

“Ah… Alistair, here,” Kallian said taking a shield from a rack and handing it to him.

“This… this shield… it’s Duncan’s, isn’t it?” he said looking at it in awe, “that’s his crest…”

“Mm… you said you wished you could have gotten a memento, right?” Kallian asked with a grin.

“Thank you… truly, I had no idea his shield wasn’t with him… This is perfect,” he replied, “I don’t know how else to express my gratitude… this means a great deal to me… I can’t believe you remembered it at all…”

“Of course I remembered, nya,” Kallian replied wryly.

“I’ll treasure this,” he replied, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Kallian smiled warmly.

He needed to talk to her about the Grey Wardens… about her feelings towards Duncan.

***

She began poking around the warehouse with Zevran, trying to make sure that there was nothing there to tip Alistair off. Riordan probably assumed that they’d been told the price to kill a god and she’d made the executive decision to not tell Alistair… just in case… it surprised her that Zevran was alright with that. She’d expected him to protest and just tell him anyway…

“Now that that’s out of the way,” Alistair sighed, “Kalli, we need to talk.”

“Uh-oh,” she replied, “sounds serious.”

“It is,” Alistair replied, “why did you lie to me?”

“About?” she asked keeping a calm face while she dreaded hearing his next words.

Did he find out how to end the Blight…?

“Duncan,” Alistair replied, “and the Wardens.”

“Who ratted me out?” she frowned letting out an internal sigh of relief.

“Shianni,” Elissa replied.

“Damn… yes, I hated Duncan,” she sighed finally admitting it, “and yes… I do actually hate being a Warden.”

“I don’t understand,” Alistair replied, “why did you lie?”

“Because my own feelings aside, they clearly did right by you, and I wasn’t going to take that away from you,” she sighed, “but… on that day… it was, rather brutally, beaten into me that I was powerless and that I was nothing. I couldn’t stop my fiance from dying, I couldn’t stop Shianni from… a large part of me had withered away that day, my sanity was fractured from everything that had happened and then to top it all off, I was taken away from my family, and then forced to join a military organization against my will… How could I be happy with that? And… I hate… that the last memory I have of Valendrian is a face filled with disappointment.”

“So then, _mi amore_ ,” Zevran mused, “it would seem that we were both forced to join the organizations that we were in.”

“At least they paid for you,” she replied dryly, “I only had my hopes and dreams shattered, along with the confidence I had in myself.”

“Well… you are the ideal recruit for many organizations,” Zevran replied, “considering your range of skills.”

“Poverty will do that to people,” she replied with a sigh.

***

For the first time since learning of her sister’s desire to die, she finally felt truly relieved.

The fool somehow managed to exceed her expectations… not only did he re-instill a reason to live within Kallian, but he had also planned for a future for them beyond the Blight… one that she had agreed to.

With his help, getting the larger fool to agree to the ritual would be far easier…

The Trio of Tricksters weren’t the only ones who were masters of manipulation. They had far more experience with it, yes, but she too knew how to manipulate.

‘Twas, after all, one of the skills Flemeth deemed necessary for her to learn.

They would need to keep this secret from Kallian, however… since there was no way that Kallian would force Alistair into doing anything he truly did not want. Especially knowing that they both hated each other… She loved them both too much to force them into doing some ritual to save her life.

‘Twas strange… she’d always admired Kallian’s overwhelming capacity for love… she, herself, had never felt the love Kallian had for her before in her entire life. The love Kallian felt for others was pure and untainted… ‘twas unconditional.

It felt… warm, calming, peaceful…

And ‘twas something she would miss dearly.

***

His Heart was reading a book, and it seemed as though every page she turned made her angrier than the last… until finally, she threw it at a wall with an angry snarl.

“Bad book?” Alistair asked.

“No, it’s a history book about the war with Orlais,” Kallian replied with a sigh moving to grab the book, “I figured I should do some research into Loghain since you should always know your enemy… something Loghain has apparently yet to grasp.”

“So what made you angry about it, _mi amore?_ ” he asked.

“Loghain used a group of Elves as a guerrilla unit, and it seems that Ferelden would have lost without them,” Kallian replied angrily, “and yet what did we get in return? We’re still treated as second-class citizens, I bear scars from riots, we fear Purges… and did you see those fliers? ‘Baring arms is strictly prohibited: Elves who have swords will die upon them’. And then to top it all off… he sold us into fucking slavery for _mother fucking money_ … and we also get to deal with shitty wastes of space who don’t even deserve to breathe like fucking Vaughan.”

The book was once again angrily thrown at the wall…

Come to think of it… how did she manage to figure out how to end a Blight if no one told her? Even Alistair didn’t know how to end it, and he had been a Warden longer than she had.

“What kind of bullshit mother fucking piece of shit fucking bullshit piece of fucking garbage is this?!” Kallian snarled, “graaaaaaaaaaaaawr! Do our contributions fucking mean nothing to you!?”

…She was so angry that her normally eloquent self got turned into a tiny ball of anger and curse words.

“Well… your contributions mean a lot to me,” Alistair commented, “hence why you’re getting Gwaren… help me work to give Elves a better life… in Ferelden, at least.”

 _“I don’t know how to be a teyrna,_ ” Kallian replied plopping back down into the seat next to him as she rested her head against his shoulder, “I was raised to serve nobles, not become one.”

“And I was raised to kill them,” he nodded leaning his head against hers as she interlaced their fingers, much to the disgust of Alistair.

“I’ll help you with that,” Elissa replied, “since _I_ was raised to be a noble as well as a teyrna.”

“I think the first thing we’ll have you do,” Alistair added, “is study a map of Thedas.”

“I might make a trip to Tevinter to see if I can find anyone and bring them back…” Kallian replied, “because… you know… on my last day in the Alienage… Nessa, one of my friends, her family got evicted because the Humans that owned the building they lived in decided to convert it into storage, and they were going to work the camps at Ostagar… She was scared to leave… she didn’t want to be around a bunch of Human soldiers… so I convinced her family to let her stay with my Father, and then told him about it later, she was so relieved… and now she’s in Tevinter, where she’ll probably be treated worse… she’ll have heard that her parents died, because of Loghain, and then have gotten sold into slavery, also because of Loghain. How fucked up is that?”

“Let us know if you need any help with that,” Alistair replied.

“I’ll do what I can to help as well,” Leliana nodded, “because you’re right… no one should be treated like that.”

“Thank you,” Kallian replied burying her face into his shoulder.

***

One day until the Landsmeet… once Alistair won it, she would give him the sword.

Excalibur was the Sword of Kings, after all.

She rummaged through her box of weapons after doing her morning stretches and felt two arms wrap around her from behind as someones rather solid chest pressed up against her back.

A wry smile played across her face, she’d known that he enjoyed sex greatly but she really didn’t expect it have been to this extent. She didn’t mind since they still got whatever they needed to get done, done, but holy hell, she didn’t expect to have it at least twice a day. Of course, if she really didn’t want it, she would just say so, and he would respect her wishes… that was another thing she loved about him: he truly cared about what she wanted.

Normally, a seven-year age difference at this age would be a major turn-off for her… She was young and didn’t have the life experience that he did, but since she cheated and was mentally twenty-three, she didn’t mind it so much…

She should probably tell him about how she cheated one day… and she should probably be careful about the wording for it, considering that he might think that she meant that she slept with someone else.

“What are you up to _mi amore?_ ” Zevran asked chuckling from her involuntary shudder.

“Packing my sleeves,” she answered frowning as she felt his lips on her neck, “also, no, not right now.”

They’d just finished a round not too long ago. 

He was insatiable. 

Though, in all honesty: she loved it… and also hoped that it wouldn’t turn into a problem.

But, waking up in his arms, starting off the day with him, his hands arranging her hair for her… if she could spend every day like this, then she could die happy.

Part of her was afraid of how happy she was… the last time she was this happy… no, she shouldn’t think about that. She was tougher, smarter, and faster now… if anyone or anything tried to get in her way, she would massacre them with a smile… Her encounter with Vaughan had truly awoken the monster within her. The vengeful beast that demanded blood for the slightest of slights.

“You know… you never showed us how to use this,” Zevran said taking her nine-section chain whip from her box.

“True,” she nodded, “would you like me to?”

“I am rather curious as to why you’re not confident in your abilities to use it without hurting allies.”

“We should get something to put on the training dummies, then… bags of something.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see.”

***

She’d already begun to pen a song about Kallian and Zevran… ‘The Cat and the Crow’… or maybe she should call it ‘How the Cat and the Crow Fell in Love’? ‘The Love Story of a Cat and a Crow’?

Her fellow trickster released the chain that had been rolled up into her hand, and that was the last she saw of it.

She could see the bags of flour get punctured… but for all intents and purposes, it looked more like an intricate dance, equal parts elegant, deadly, and graceful. Once all the bags were punctured, Kallian spun it one last time to collect it back into her hand.

As a master of weaponry… Kallian truly was a one-woman army.

“And that’s how you use a nine-section chain whip,” Kallian said.

“I couldn’t even see it,” she replied.

“That’s why I’m not confident in my abilities to not injure allies,” Kallian replied.

“It seems like a weapon assassin’s would wield,” Zevran mused.

“I feel like you keep trying to turn me into an assassin, my heartfire,” Kallian frowned, “or are trying to convince me that I already am one.”

“Aren’t you?” Zevran asked.

“Last I checked? No,” Kallian replied shaking her head.

Thinking about it… she wondered what kind of information she could pry out of Kallian about their relationship…

“Sorry, Zevran,” she said latching onto one of her arms, “but I’m going to be borrowing her for a while.”

“Oh! Let me come too!” Elissa said excitedly grabbing on to the other, “a girls day out!”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Kallian asked.

“Nope!” Elissa replied as they both hauled her off.

They took Kallian to a little known cafe in Denerim… she knew that Zevran could have followed them to steal her away at any second, but that didn’t seem to be on his agenda. Well, at the moment anyway.

“He is quite a character, your Zevran, no?” she asked.

“What do you mean by that?” Kallian asked in return.

“He seems to seek pleasure above all things, but clearly there is more to him, isn’t there?” she replied, “he is far more complex than he lets on.”

“Mmm… he’s had to go through a lot as a Crow, more than I could ever imagine,” Kallian nodded, “why the interest?”

“I feel that it is in my interest to study those I travel with, and Zevran deserved special scrutiny, seeing that he tried to kill you,” she answered, “but it seems you trust him, judging from your closeness. If you do, then I do too. You haven’t led us astray yet.”

“I don’t think he was actually trying to win,” Kallian admitted, “the trap was extremely obvious… if he were actually trying to win, surely he’d have planned a much better one.”

Of course, Kallian would have seen through his true intentions with him accepting the contract… Kallian’s ability to see through people was terrifying.

“Well, that aside, you do have good taste,” she replied, “he is an attractive one.”

“I suppose,” Kallian replied, “I’m honestly just glad his face wasn’t wasted on his personality.”

“Wasn’t wasted on his personality?” Elissa asked.

“Attractive face, crappy personality,” Kallian replied, “I’ve known people like that… always makes me think ‘what a waste of a good face’.”

“So, how is he?” Elissa asked.

“You could have asked him th—” Kallian cut herself off when she realized exactly what Elissa was asking and her face flushed red, “I haven’t asked you how Alistair was, have I?”

“He’s fine,” Elissa replied, “a little rough in the beginning but his enthusiasm more than made up for it.”

“I didn’t need to know that!” Kallian replied she was red all the way up to the tips of her ears.

“So, how is Zevran?” she repeated Elissa’s question.

“I… have no one else to compare him to,” Kallian replied looking away.

She really was adorable when embarrassed.

“Surely you can tell us more than that,” Elissa replied with a grin.

“He seems… insatiable,” Kallian mumbled.

“Well… he has abstained from sex ever since he met you,” she nodded, “and clearly it was something he used to enjoy quite frequently.”

“True… he’s probably had more lovers in his past than even he knows…” Kallian replied trailing off, “ ah, well, we’ll figure it out as we go along… so can we please stop talking about our sex lives?”

“You teased me and Alistair,” Elissa scoffed, “I don’t see why I can’t return the favor.”

“I wasn’t asking you for details, was I?” Kallian retorted.

“Alistair still can’t believe you’re actually a thing,” Elissa commented.

“Well… that’s not my problem,” Kallian replied, “sounds more like a ‘him’ problem.”

“So, how did he propose?” she asked.

“He didn’t, actually,” Kallian replied honestly, “all he said was ‘once this business with the Blight is over, let’s get married.’… it wasn’t even a question.”

“Because I knew that you would say yes,” Zevran said with a grin appearing at her side, Alistair right beside him,

“And I knew you were here,” Kallian replied flatly, “and have been for the past five minutes or so.”

“What are you going to do about the Taint?” Elissa asked seriously.

“I have a few ideas,” Kallian replied, “I’ll explain after the Landsmeet.”

Kallian always had a trick or thirty up her sleeves… sometimes literally… if anyone could find a cure for the Taint… it was her.

“Oh, good,” Alistair replied, “Ferelden losing two kings to the Blight would set a rather poor precedent.”

“I agree,” Kallian nodded, “also, going crazy because I’m hearing things doesn’t sound very appealing.”

***

The Landsmeet would be happening in the morning so they were back at Arl Eamon’s estate going through some last checks.

And currently, she was wondering what she should wear… She should probably not go in disguise, as was her usual strategy for wandering about town.

As someone who didn’t wear armor, she got to fuss about her fashion choices.

“Is there anything in particular that we should be prepared for?” she asked.

“You may be called upon to fight,” Eamon replied.

“I see…” she replied in thought.

So then weapons were a must… probably not just her sleeve weapons… she’ll bring Excalibur to present it to Alistair once the Landsmeet was over and done with.

“Kalli… there’s no way you’d lose against anyone,” Elissa replied reassuringly.

“Huh? Who said I’m worried about losing?” she asked.

“Then what _are_ you worried about?” Alistair asked.

“What I should wear,” she replied honestly causing Oghren to laugh.

“Alistair, you should probably also be prepared to give a speech,” Eamon added and Alistair groaned, “for now, it’s best we all get a good night's rest.”

“I agree,” she replied and they dispersed.

Her mind wandered back to earlier in the day, a small part of her worried about Zevran getting bored of her… he had far more experience than she did, and had left behind a string of who even knows how many lovers… whose names and faces he probably doesn’t even remember. Plus, he was born and raised in an environment where such things were normal occurrences, and she had her boundaries that she was absolutely not going to change for him.

Just because she loved him, didn’t mean she was going to completely change herself for him… and she highly doubted he wanted her to… part of what he loved about her was how stupidly stubborn she was and her absolute refusal to bow down to anyone.

And honestly, she liked that about herself too.

Well, worrying about something that hasn’t happened yet was stupid… and even if he did look someone else’s way all she needed to do was make him look back at her. She’d already told him that she could be a jealous and possessive woman. She was his, and he was hers… and she planned to keep it that way.

…Was she _yandere?_

She might be… hmmm… she would probably go berserk and annihilate anyone that tries to touch Zevran… But then there were her actions against Vaughan and Branka… hrm…

But then Zevran would also probably annihilate anyone that tries to touch her…

Maybe they were more of a battle couple? Though that didn’t stop her from being _yandere_ … let’s see… they were… sweet on the outside, but crazy one the inside… Then again, she’d like to consider herself mentally stable…

Actually… wasn’t she just obscenely protective of everyone she loved? She’d kill anyone that threatened _anyone_ she cared for.

She suddenly felt Zevran’s arms wrapping around her, drawing her out of her thoughts, and leaned back against him.

“What are you thinking about?” Zevran asked.

“You getting tired of me and falling out of love with me.”

“Why would you worry about that?”

“Well… you’re used to traveling around, right? And sleeping with lots of people… and if you stay with me, you’re going to become a noble and be stuck in one place…”

“You said it yourself: just because there’s no danger in your life, doesn’t mean it’s not eventful… also, there will likely be many assassins sent after us… it should be great fun.”

“True…”

“And I believe I’ve said before that politics and death go together like kisses and love-making,” Zevran said as she felt herself being picked up, “and speaking of kisses and love-making…”

She found herself being thrown onto the bed, and her clothes already being tugged off.

“You truly are insatiable,” she replied with a wry smile.

“Only for you,” Zevran grinned as she pulled him in for a kiss.

Zevran became the only thing to exist in her world as she lost herself to the sensation of his touch on her skin… truly, if she could spend every day like this, wrapped in his arms as she drowned in his love, she could die happy.

“Should I really be allowed to be this happy?” she asked quietly as he settled back down onto the bed.

“Even if you aren’t,” Zevran replied wrapping his arms around her, “I have every intention of making you so.”

“I’m lucky to have you,” she smiled warmly.

“Actually, I think I’m the lucky one,” Zevran replied, “you freed me from the Crows, and now I can begin again… and if starting over means becoming a noble so that I can stay by your side… then so be it.”

“I love you so much,” she replied burying her face into his chest.

“I love you too, _mi amore_ ,” Zevran replied holding her tighter against him.

She’ll absolutely destroy anyone who tries to get in the way of this happiness… they will scream, and she will laugh. Any enemy of his became an enemy of hers… and she was a brutal monster that no one should ever cross.

***

His Heart worried about the silliest things… if anything, _he’s_ the one who should be concerned with _her_ leaving _him_. She was love, she was light, she was hope, she was wild and free, completely uncontrollable and full of life… and he, he was brought up to kill, to turn his heart cold in favor of the kill… he didn’t know much about love, and he’d lived in a gilded cage all his life, not even thinking about how one day he might be free of the Crows.

She called herself a monster, but she was one of her own design… she was loyal and pure in her love and desire to protect others.

He may not be able to make her the happiest woman in all of Thedas… but she would be close to it… and it _would_ be the last thing he did. 

He would make sure of it.

The day he stopped loving her was the day his soul ceased to exist.

She would give Elves a better lot in life, and he would kill anyone who stood in her way… anyone she hated deserved nothing more than death.


	56. How the Future King Won the Landsmeet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have now joined the rest of the world in the year 2020.

He greatly enjoyed running his fingers through scarlet strands as he put her hair up for her, and he could tell that she enjoyed him doing it as well. It was something that became a bit of a morning ritual… He took great pleasure in the fact that he managed to seamlessly fit into her morning routine. 

Since they would be going into the Landsmeet, he contemplated pulling her hair up into a bun so that he could slip a vial of poison inside. But he decided against it, since she was more than capable without such tactics and likely wouldn’t even have time to use it.

“I’m curious: how did you find out how to end a Blight?” he asked quietly… they were far enough away from the door and walls that no one should be able to listen in.

“I asked a question and sought the answer,” Kallian explained just as quietly, “the question being: why do Grey Wardens have to physically alter their bodies? Dwarves fight against the Darkspawn all the time, but they don’t become Wardens to do so. It would make more sense for them to _not_ physically alter their bodies so that they could live longer, and thus fight the Darkspawn for longer. Not only that, but physically altering your body, and shortening your lifespan _just_ to be able to sense Darkspawn is asinine. So I did a bit of research, and read studies on the previous Blights… and I only really needed to read the study on the First Blight.

“Dumat was struck down at least once, but then returned from the grave, and it was only when the Grey Wardens entered the field that he was successfully slain for good. Following that, I found that all Wardens who struck the final blow against an Archdemon died right after… the future of Ferelden’s at stake, I couldn’t allow myself to be ignorant and blindly go along… I don’t know why Dumat came back, and I don’t know what makes the Warden die as well, though.”

He’d always been impressed by her sheer intelligence, and her inability to simply accept what she’s told… Crows didn’t ask questions, but she did. 

She always questioned motives and refused to allow herself to be ignorant… as someone who was taught not to question things and simply comply with the orders he was given… it was a trait of hers that he loved. It was part of how strong-willed and free she was.

“You know… I’ve always admired that part about you,” he commented.

“I know… I also know that you like it when I intimidate people.”

“Well… you are rather sexy when you put people in their places.”

“You’re the only one who would think that,” Kallian replied wryly, “everyone else finds it terrifying.”

“And they don’t deserve you.”

“Only you do,” Kallian replied and he pulled her back into his arms.

“Keep this up and we’ll be late to the Landsmeet,” he murmured into her ear.

“Well then, let’s look forward to what happens after,” Kallian replied extracting herself from his embrace before spinning around and pressing a kiss to his lips.

“You’d better be prepared then,” he cautioned, “because I think that we’ll be in for a _very_ long night.”

“As long as it’s not a long week,” Kallian chuckled, “we do have a Blight to end, after all.”

He couldn’t wait until this business with the throne was settled and he could have her to himself.

***

She opted to keep it simple and wore a white shirt with black embroidery with black leggings and had Diana carry her main weapons for her. She wrapped Excalibur in a velvet cloth and stowed it away for the time being.

The Landsmeet hasn’t even started, and she was already looking forward to it being over… she had a lover who wanted her all to himself, and who she wanted all to herself… She was worried about growing way too emotionally dependent on Zevran… she needs to regain her mental and emotional stability. Part of her wonders who cares, but another part of her is like ‘no, that’s bad. Stop.’

She really wished that people would stop pushing her past her limits… Like, seriously, could they like, stop pressing her berserk button? She would really like to regain control of herself, and they were making it way harder than it should be… ah, well, hopefully, once the Blight was over and done with, she’ll be able to regain _some_ semblance of normalcy in her life… and that should help her stabilize her moods.

…Maybe she should keep a journal so that she can better keep track of her levels of sanity.

Worries about her mental state aside: she wasn’t looking forward to explaining her idea for curing them of the Taint. They’ll probably be like ‘BLOOD MAGIC?!’ and she’ll be like ‘NO! BLOOD RESEARCH! THERE’S A DIFFERENCE!’.

“It must have sucked sleeping in armor in the Deep Roads,” she commented looking over everyone in their shiny dragon armor.

Wade did a fantastic job… all the weapons she commissioned were amazing as well… and Excalibur was truly a sword fit for a king.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” Alistair groaned, “you’re lucky you don’t wear armor.”

“And you’re lucky you didn’t live under the oppression I did,” she replied.

“Well… you have me there,” Alistair sighed.

“To remain indifferent to the challenges we face is indefensible… if the goal is noble, whether or not it is realized within our lifetime is largely irrelevant,” she recounted, “what we must do, therefore, is to strive and persevere and never give up, nyan-nyon.”

Leliana was writing it down… she’d almost forgot that that was something they did.

“If all goes well,” Eamon said, “the fight will be an honorable one on one duel… Alistair will likely be asked to choose a champion.”

She’s already laid down the groundwork, poisoning the well with the truth had always been rather satisfying.

“I’ll pick Kalli,” Alistair replied, “I think she has some issues with Loghain as well.”

“Of fucking course I do,” she replied snapping her fingers into a thumbs up.

“Excellent, I’ll head over first,” Arl Eamon said before taking his leave, “join me as quickly as you can.”

“I’m nervous,” Alistair admitted.

“If you can’t believe in yourself, then believe in the me who believes in you,” she replied patting him on the shoulder, “also, remember: Loghain doesn’t think this is a true Blight… feel free to call him out on it… as well as the fact that he never planned on responding to the beacon… his involvement in the Circle…”

Where did she hear that quote from? Meh, whatever.

Alistair would walk the Path of Kings… he would live with and for the people. 

Of that, she was certain.

Thinking about it… what would stop Riordan from invoking the Right of Conscription…? She’ll go for his tendons and make sure he’ll never be able to fight again… Some may consider it petty, but the people lost at Ostagar had family and friends, and she too had lost family and friends to slavers. Elissa, Arl Eamon, and the Circle of Magi suffered from his actions as well.

He would pay for what his paranoia cost them all… as a vigilante, she was both judge and executioner, the Vengeful Cat who sought vengeance for those who’ve been wronged.

And the only cure for stupidity was death.

“Alright, let’s go,” he nodded.

Everyone left Arl Eamon’s estate and started traveling to the Royal Palace, the deadliest entourage of misfits collected from all corners of Ferelden. Companions whose bonds were forged in battle and strife, people who probably would have never in their lives crossed paths, brought together by a single goal.

And this was their deciding moment.

***

Kallian, Arl Eamon, and Elissa have been preparing him for this but that didn’t stop the butterflies fluttering about in his stomach. He would _not_ let Kallian down, at least… she’s sacrificed so much for his sake, including, very nearly, her life. She was the most intelligent, and confident person he’s ever met, and she believed in him.

They entered the Royal Palace, and Ser Cauthrien was there to greet them… and probably not in a good way. 

He saw Kallian tug her gloves on.

“Kallian, I am not surprised it has come to this,” Cauthrien announced, “and Alistair: if you were even remotely worthy of being called Maric’s son, you would already _be_ in the Landsmeet, now wouldn’t you?”

“We’re just fashionably late,” Kallian shrugged.

“You have torn Ferelden apart to oppose the very man who ensured you were born into freedom,” Cauthrien glowered sending Kallian into a hysterical laughing fit, “why are you laughing?!”

“Yes… born into freedom to have our contributions to the victory against Orlais long forgotten and thrown to the wayside… And then to be sold into slavery!” Kallian laughed cruelly, “along with the women abandoned at Ostagar who are now bolstering Darkspawn ranks! Oh, the hypocrisy! The irony of your words! Am I supposed to thank you for selling one of the men who raised me to Tevinter? As well as very nearly losing my _Father?_ _You_ can say and act like this because _your_ contributions weren’t forgotten, because _you_ haven’t had to hear that your family was sold to slavers after being used as a scapegoat for regicide. Can you truly look me in the eyes and tell me that this was worth being told that my _family and friends were sold into slavery?”_

“I—”

“By the by, do you know how long it takes for Darkspawn to turn women into Broodmothers?” Kallian asked interrupting her with sadistic glee, “ten days… Ten days of agony, forced to eat your kin and swallow Darkspawn vomit and filth! After which you’ll be forced to birth Darkspawn for the rest of your life! Those women pledging themselves to protect their country, taking up sword and shield to defend their home only to be given to the Darkspawn to birth their young! What wonderful freedom we were given!”

He did not envy Ser Cauthrien in the slightest… being on the receiving end of Kallian’s brutal sadism seemed… terrifying… and incredibly demoralizing. She knew what words to say, and how to say them in order to inflict the most psychological damage she possibly could… and the worst part of it was that she never spoke a single lie when doing so.

Kallian was capable of great compassion, kindness, and love… but she was just as capable of their opposites: cruelty, hatred, and despair.

“He— he has done terrible things, I know it, but I owe him everything!” Cauthrien admitted, “I cannot betray him! Do not ask me to!”

“I’m not,” Kallian replied, all traces of malice evaporating in seconds, “truthfully, I bear no hatred towards Loghain. Hatred is a useless emotion that traps us all in a past that has no place in the present… all I feel for him is pity. I pity the him who could not lay the ghosts of his past to rest, the him whose hatred and paranoia drives him to destroy what he loves above all else… However, the people who he’s wronged had families, friends, people who loved them and will now never be able to see them again. Allowing him to simply walk away from this unpunished would be an insult to the person that I am.”

How she switches from a vengeful malevolent monstrosity to an understanding kind-hearted philosopher so fast will always be a mystery to him… it was hard to imagine that there was once a time where she was bad at switching back and forth.

“I never thought duty would taste so bitter,” Cauthrien replied sadly.

“You must not hate those who do wrong or harmful things,” Kallian replied, “but with compassion, you must do what you can to stop them, for they are harming themselves as well as those who suffer from their actions.”

“Stop him then, Kallian,” Cauthrien replied stepping aside, “stop him from betraying everything he once loved… but please… show mercy. Without Loghain, there would be no Ferelden to defend.”

“That is not for me to decide,” Kallian replied walking past her.

Loghain wasn’t walking out of here alive, that much was certain… but how he died was up to him, he supposed.

Kallian moved to hold open the doors for him acting ever the part of an Elven servant: he was the main focus of this situation, not her… which was something he was still getting used to. He was learning to lead, yes, and he’s had major successes, but still… Is this how Kallian felt every time she was forced to act as their leader? When she was meeting with Human nobles and being treated as more than what she had ever expected to be? She’d been taught to not stand out amongst Humans, but there he was, making her stand out and make their groups decisions.

“My Lords and Ladies of the Landsmeet, Teyrn Loghain would have us give up our freedoms, our traditions, out of fear!” Eamon’s voice rang out, “ _he_ placed us on this path, yet we should place our destiny in his hands? Must we sacrifice everything good about our nation to save it?”

“A fine performance, Eamon, but no one here is taken in by it, you would attempt to put a puppet on the throne and every soul here knows it. The better question is: who will pull the strings?” Loghain replied before seeing them approach his eyes landing on Kallian, “ah! And here we have the puppeteer!

“Tell us, Kallian: how _will_ the Orlesians take our nation from us? Will they deign to send their troops? Or simply issue their commands through this would-be prince? How much Ferelden blood does Orlesian gold buy these days?”

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Kallian shrugged.

“What are you implying?” Loghain glowered.

“That you sold my friends and family to slavers of the Tevinter Imperium,” Kallian replied sending murmuring through the crowd, “in any case, sorry to disappoint: but your verbal spar won’t be with me.”

“It’ll be with me,” he said speaking up, making sure to keep his voice loud and clear, “Loghain, the Blight is the threat here, not Orlais.”

“There are enough refugees in my bannorn now to make that abundantly clear,” Alfstanna agreed.

“The south is fallen, Loghain!” Wulff added, “will you let Darkspawn take the whole country for fear of Orlais?”

“The Blight is indeed real, Wulff,” Loghain replied, “but do we need Grey Wardens to fight it? They claim that they alone can end the Blight, yet they failed spectacularly against the Darkspawn at Ostagar, and they ask to bring with them four legions of chevaliers. And once we open our borders to the chevaliers, can we really expect them to simply return from whence they came?”

“Don’t lie, Loghain: you don’t actually think this is a real Blight,” he replied, “if you did, you wouldn’t have given the King a strategy that you had no plans of carrying out… you never planned on responding to the beacon at the Tower of Ishal, in fact, you were hoping that it wouldn’t go up in the first place so that you could simply say that Ostagar was a lost cause.”

“What proof do you have?” Loghain glared.

“The Tower of Ishal had lower chambers opened up the day before the Battle of Ostagar,” Kallian supplied, “men were stationed there in order to check them, however, the Darkspawn had opened up those lower chambers and then left so that they could infiltrate our camp at Ostagar, and attack from the rear… you knew that Darkspawn came from underground, and yet the actual defenses at the Tower during the battle were… lacking, to say the least. The Darkspawn had occupied that tower for… judging by the skinned corpses, globules of flesh, and barricades that had been set up, I would say three to four hours, maybe? 

“The only reason that the beacon went up, was because I saw through your plan: I knew something was wrong and moved to light the beacon to send a signal, not for your troops, but so that others could witness the beacon, and know that something was wrong. It was a clever tactic, I’ll admit, only one other person saw through it… and that was King Cailan himself. He had some inkling that you would betray him, which is why he sent Alistair and I to the Tower in the first place… he was hoping to give Alistair a better chance of survival. Though, even I’ll agree that this is simply conjecture… though the look on your face tells me I’m right.”

“Not only did you betray our King,” he nodded, “but you allowed Rendon Howe to imprison and torture innocents… including the family of some of the nobility present.”

“Alistair speaks truly! My son was taken under the cover of night,” Sighard shouted, “the things done to him… some of them are beyond any healer’s skill.”

“Howe was responsible for himself: he will answer to the Maker for any wrongs committed in this life. As must we all,” Loghain replied, “but you know that… you were the ones who murdered him… whatever Howe may have done, he should have been brought before the seneschal. There is no justice in butchering a man in his own home.”

“Then tell me _why my entire family_ was massacred in our own home at Howe’s hands,” Elissa replied, “I barely escaped with my life, not that you seem to care, considering you gave Howe my family’s teyrnir as a reward for his treachery.”

“And what of Vaughan Kendalls?” Loghain asked glaring at Kallian.

“I didn’t want to be raped,” Kallian replied simply, “it was either lay down, submit, and be defiled against my will, or stand and fight… I chose the latter… and I’d like to think that everyone else here would as well.”

“And let’s not forget the fact that you sent a blood mage to poison Arl Eamon,” he added.

“I assure you, Alistair, if I were going to send someone, it would be my own soldiers,” Loghain scoffed, “I would not trust to the discretion of an apostate.”

“Indeed?” Alfstanna asked, “my brother tells a very different tale: he says you snatched a blood mage from the Chantry’s justice. Coincidence?”

“Do not think the Chantry will overlook this, Teyrn Loghain,” the Grand Cleric glowered, “interference in a Templar’s sacred duties is an offense against the Maker.”

“Whatever I have done, I will answer for later,” Loghain replied, “at the moment, however, I wish to know what these Wardens have done with my daughter.”

“Anora sent her handmaiden, Erlina, to Arl Eamon, as a messenger to tell him that she feared for her life,” he answered, “which is why we were in the Arl of Denerim’s estate to begin with: she was being held captive there.”

“You took my daughter —our Queen— by force, killing her guards in the process,” Loghain glared, “what arts have you employed to keep her? Does she even still live?”

“I believe I can speak for myself,” Anora declared entering the room, “Lords and Ladies of Ferelden, hear me: these Wardens have slandered and defamed Ferelden’s greatest hero in a bid to put an impostor on Maric’s throne… it has become clear to me, Alistair, that the true threat to this nation: is you. I offered you the chance to ally with me for the good of this nation, and yet you refused it. I will not allow you to destroy the throne Cailan and I have held.”

“You’re no better than your Father, I see,” Alfstanna scoffed, “since you seem to also be willing to use people and then betray them once they’re no longer useful.”

“Indeed,” Sighard agreed, “I expected better from you.”

She’d predictably fallen straight into Kallian’s trap… and the look on her face told him that she wasn’t expecting this.

“How can we trust someone so willing to use people and then toss them to the wayside like this?” he asked, “this isn’t the first time the Mac Tir’s have forgotten the contributions of those who gave them their aid: the guerrilla group that Loghain himself, created, the Night Elves too, have been forgotten despite their pivotal role in the fight against Orlais… and in return for their help, they had to live in horrible conditions before being sold into slavery.

“Lords and Ladies of the Landsmeet, who's to say that you won’t be the next to fall to the treachery of the Mac Tir’s? To have your aid and accomplishments cast aside because you have nothing else to offer? Loghain’s abandonment of Cailan during the Battle of Ostagar cost us family and friends… all those women who were abandoned after the battle were turned into Broodmothers that the Darkspawn are now using to bolster their ranks… even if you don’t think that this a true Blight, Loghain, what you’ve done is unforgivable.”

“Before you attempt to plead ignorance,” Kallian added, “it’s not that hard to research your enemy before marching against them… the fact that you neglected to do so, speaks volumes on your tactical and strategical prowess… Darkspawn are anatomically similar to Humans, Elves, Dwarves, and Qunari… it does not take very long to learn why that is so.”

“Indeed,” Wulff announced, “the Western Hills throw their lot in with the Wardens… Maker help us.”

“South Reach stands with the Grey Wardens,” Bryland nodded.

“The Wardens helped me personally in a… family matter,” a Noble he didn’t recognize added.

“Waking Seas stand with the Grey Wardens!” Alfstanna declared.

“Dragon’s Peak supports the Wardens!” Sighard replied.

“Highever stands with the Grey Wardens,” Elissa shouted.

“I stand by Loghain!” Ceorlic replied, “we’ve no hope of victory otherwise.”

“I stand with the Wardens!” another Noble declared, “the Blight is coming: we need the Grey Wardens!”

“The Landsmeet is against you, Loghain,” he replied, “step down gracefully.”

“Traitors! Which of you stood against the Orlesian emperor when his troops flattened your fields and raped your wives?” Loghain glowered, “you fought with us once, Eamon. You cared about this land once. Before you got too old and fat and content to even see what you risk. None of you deserve a say in what happens here! None of you have spilled blood for this land the way I have! How dare you judge me!”

“The same can be said of you, Loghain,” Eamon replied, “the Wardens have been traveling the country righting your wrongs.”

“Call off your men, Loghain,” he declared, “and we’ll settle this honorably.”

“Then let us end this,” Loghain replied looking to Kallian, “I suppose we both knew it would come to this… when we first met at Ostagar, I would never have thought so. But Ostagar seems like it happened in another lifetime, to someone else. A man is made by the quality of his enemies… Maric told me that once. I wonder if it’s more a compliment to you or me.”

“You. Definitely you,” Kallian replied bluntly, “considering I _actually_ sought to learn about my enemies so that I could more effectively counter them… one should never assume that they know everything about anything. To do so leads to both ignorance and negligence, both of which can lead to devastating consequences… not only that but, how should I say this… you’re rather predictable, aren’t you?”

“Enough,” Loghain replied, “let the Landsmeet declare the terms of the duel.”

“It shall be fought according to tradition,” Alfstanna announced, “a test of arms in single combat until one party yields. And we who are assembled will abide by the outcome.”

“Will you face me yourself, Alistair?” Loghain asked, “or have you a champion?”

“Kallian will be my champion,” he replied as she took her main weapons from Diana before securing them to herself.

“It is you or me the men will follow,” Loghain replied, “so let us fight for it. Prepare yourself.”

***

His Heart had truly done a fantastic job in teaching Alistair how to stand on his own, and even he couldn’t help but be impressed with how far the boy had come. It was hard to believe that this was once the same blubbering fool who was always seeking her instruction. He also did not miss the cold sneer that had briefly crossed her face when the Landsmeet immediately turned against Anora after she declared the Wardens as enemies, falling right into her trap.

“Well then, starting now: it’s my turn,” Kallian said.

“Are you insulting me by not wearing armor?” Loghain glared.

“No, I’m not wearing armor because I’m taking this seriously,” Kallian replied, “sorry, but I’m not the type to wear things to impede my own martial prowess.”

He watched her clasp her hands behind her back as Loghain began circling her… only beginning to move once Loghain attempted to land a strike against her. For all intents and purposes, they seemed to be evenly matched.

“Is Loghain really as skilled as she is?” Elissa asked.

“No, she is matching his skill level,” Sten replied.

She flowed around him, dodging, and parrying, but he could tell what she was doing: she was forcing him to overwork his right leg. Loghain wore armor, and that was something she needed to get past in order to actually inflict damage… she was making him compromise his own body so that she could create an opening for herself to strike.

“Is this all you’ve got?” Loghain taunted causing Kallian to stop in her tracks.

“I hope you’re not being serious,” Kallian retorted, “because only amateurs go all out from the beginning in a one on one match.”

He wished that she would just end this duel, she was far too sexy for her own good. Unfortunately, she likely had a reason for fighting this way. She wouldn’t draw out a fight unless she thought it necessary… and then he caught sight of that Warden, Riordan, in the crowd, and understood what her goal was: she was going to cripple him so that invoking the Right of Conscription would be useless.

She’s already proved herself to be a far superior tactician and strategist…

_“Anything that can be done to others can be done to you, as well.”_

She was disregarding Loghain and his contributions to the victory against Orlais, just as he disregarded the contributions of the Elves. Loghain was unnecessary and could be tossed aside just as he’s tossed others aside.

And finally, she severed the tendons in his sword arm, ensuring that he would never be able to wield a blade ever again.

“Enough!” Loghain said holding a hand to his arm, “I underestimated you, Wardens… I thought you were like Cailan, a child wanting to play at war. I was wrong. There’s a strength in you that I have not seen anywhere since Maric died… I yield.”

“That’s an idiotic assumption. War is hell, and not something that should ever be taken lightly,” Kallian replied bluntly, “I am only eighteen years old, and yet I have seen enough death, destruction, injustice, and families torn asunder to last a lifetime… there is no way I would ever wish to see more. You spoke of the horrors of the Orlesian occupation, completely ignorant to the fates of those who aided you in your time of need. You spoke of troops leveling fields and raping wives, ignorant to the fact that that is a reality Elves continually face every day. We live under the fear and understanding that a mere action could bring a Purge down onto our community… I could hate you for what you’ve done, for what you’ve forgotten, but I don’t. I could hate all Humans for the injustices we Elves have faced every day, but I don’t. Hatred is something useless that only serves to trap us in the past… we can never move forward as long as that remains in our hearts. I do not hate yo, Loghain, but I do pity you. Alistair, what happens next, is your decision.”

“Loghain must die for his crimes,” Alistair declared.

“You can’t do this!” Anora argued, “my Father may have been wrong, but he is still a hero to the people!”

“Anora, hush,” Loghain relied in resignation, “it’s over.”

“Stop treating me like a child,” Anora retorted, “this is serious.”

“Daughters never grow up, Anora,” Loghain chastised, “they remain six years old with pigtails and skinned knees forever.”

“Father—” Anora sobbed.

“Just make it quick, then, Alistair,” Loghain said turning to Alistair, “I can face the Maker, knowing that Ferelden is in your hands.”

His Heart unbuckled the sword at her hip, and handed it to Alistair, Duncan’s sword, if his memory served correct.

Alistair took it unsheathing it before beheading Loghain in one strike… Anora quickly moving to cry over her Father’s body.

***

She was beyond proud of Alistair… he won that Landsmeet on his own. All she did was supply facts that were hers to deliver, considering that she was the one who realized what was going on… Also because of the groundwork, she’d laid out, what with telling everyone why they were in the Arl of Denerim’s estate, as well as disclosing how Darkspawn replenish their ranks. As far as she was concerned, he made good use of the assistance she offered him, and it paid out strongly in his favor.

“So it is decided,” Eamon announced, “Alistair will take his Father’s throne.”

“I accept this decision,” Alistair replied with a bow, “I will be King, if the Landsmeet will have me… and if she will have me, I would have Elissa Cousland as my Queen.”

“I would love to,” Elissa smiled.

“Anora, the Landsmeet has decided against you,” Eamon said turning to her, “you must now swear fealty to our King, and relinquish all claim to the throne for yourself and your heirs.”

“If you think I will swear that oath, Eamon,” Anora replied, “you know nothing of me.”

“We cannot leave Ferelden in a state of civil war,” Eamon replied, “we must have unity. If she will not swear fealty to you, Alistair, and renounce her claim to the throne, she is a threat to us all.”

“Put her in the tower for now,” Alistair declared, “if I fall against the Blight, then she can have her throne. If not… then we’ll see.”

“You would give me a chance for the throne after all this?” Anora asked in shock.

“I said if I fall, Anora. If I fall, the throne falls to you,” Alistair clarified, “I won’t kill you while there’s a chance that can happen. _Somebody_ has to treat this Blight seriously.”

“That is uncharacteristically wise of you,” Anora replied.

“Shows what you know about him,” she scoffed.

“Very well, then. Guards, take her away,” Eamon ordered before turning to Alistair, “Your Highness, would you address the Landsmeet?”

“I never knew him, but from all I’ve heard of my Father, what defined him was his commitment to protecting this land… I may be Maric’s son, but I am also a Grey Warden. I took an oath: I swore I would stand and fight the Darkspawn, no matter the cost to myself,” Alistair announced loud and clear, “I can’t break that oath just to wear the crown just yet. I have to go face the Blight with my fellow Warden. But when the Blight is over, I’ll come back to take up my duties as king. Until then, I name Arl Eamon my regent.”

“Then I can do Maric’s memory no less honor than you do. I accept,” Eamon bowed, “and may the Maker bless your efforts against the Darkspawn.”

“Kallian, will you take Loghain’s place as the leader of my armies?” Alistair asked turning to her.

“If that is the will of the Crown,” she replied with a bow, “then I will gladly see us to victory.”

“Everyone, get ready to march,” Alistair continued, “it’s going to take all of Ferelden’s strength to survive this Blight. But we _will_ face it. And we’ll defeat it.”

“Hail, King Alistair,” she declared kneeling down to present him with Excalibur, “long and prosperous may his reign be.”

“Thank you, Kallian” Alistair replied taking the sword from her hands, leaving her with the velvet cloth she had wrapped it in, “are you ever going to tell me why you're insistent on naming it Excalibur?”

“Maybe later,” she replied as the hall descended into applause.

She felt an arm wrap around her waist, and a wry smile played across her lips… he’s the only one who would ever find that side of her desirable… which was actually probably a good thing, considering she would now be living an entirely different life than she had expected. She had wanted a normal life, with a normal husband… but that was so far off the table now that she couldn’t even see it anymore. It was highly likely she would be called into malevolence again, that she would have to turn into a raging bloodthirsty beast… and having a lover who didn’t mind that seemed almost too good to be true…

Which was why she was worried… every bit of happiness he gave her filled her with fear and dread…

What will happen to her if it all gets taken away?

***

Kallian and Zevran needed to stop being absolutely disgusting, he needed to talk to her.

“You made me king,” he found himself saying in disbelief, “after all this is over with, they’re actually going to put me on the throne. I’m still… I’m going to be the king.”

“Uhh… congratulations?” Kallian replied, “though, in my opinion, you made yourself King… you did wonderfully… Mother is so proud I’m getting misty-eyed.”

“Cute. I suppose I would have been mad about this before, but since our talk after seeing my sister… and everything we’ve been through,” he replied, “well, perhaps this isn’t so bad… this was always a possibility. I always feared it, but maybe there’s nothing to fear… I might actually make a good king, you never know.”

“I wouldn’t push you to be king if I thought you unworthy,” Kallian replied, “not only that but if I thought you’d truly be miserable, I’d have figured out some way to keep you from the throne.”

“True… I’ll tell you what, though,” he replied, “I’ll make a far better king if I have the right people by my side to help me once I’m on the throne… so you’re still getting Gwaren.”

“Yeah… I figured,” Kallian sighed, “plus, you did raise a good point in that I could help you work to give Elves a better life.”

“Glad to hear it,” he nodded.

“So, what are your thoughts on dealing with the Archdemon?” Eamon asked.

“If we can evacuate it beforehand,” Kallian answered, “luring it into a city would be our best bet… fighting on open terrain leaves us too open, also it has wings and can fly, which we cannot. Not only that, but we can set up ambush points and blockades in order to control the flow of battle. If we make good use of the city gates, we can also control how much Darkspawn actually make it into the city… the only question would be which city. Denerim would probably be the easiest, as it is the seat of power in Ferelden… and the most likely place for them to strike in order to deal a harsh demoralizing blow.

“However, for any strategy to work, we need the Archdemon to show itself in the first place, according to my research: an Archdemon can lay in wait underground for months before leading an assault on the surface, as they prefer to command their troops from underground. Generally speaking, the assaults they lead are always on a city.”

“I see… you chose well, Alistair,” Eamon nodded, “for now, we should rest. I will be heading back to Redcliffe in the morning along with the army. Join us as soon as you are ready.”

“We will,” Kallian nodded, “I would like time to spend some time with my family before leaving again…”

“Of course,” Eamon replied.

***

He quickly closed and locked the door behind them, before moving to release scarlet hair from their bonds… he always enjoyed watching it tumble down. They moved quickly towards the bed, hands tugging at each other's clothes to the sound of numerous hidden weapons clattering to the floor, lips barely leaving each other.

She hungered for him, just as he hungered for her, and they desperately tried to touch each other everywhere they could all at once. He couldn’t help but remember all the eyes that had gazed at her with desire at the Landsmeet, though he highly doubted any of them would be able to handle her intensity.

He loved her eyes and the way she looked at him when their bodies joined together. It was a look of complete and utter love and adoration, and he always found himself drowning in them. 

She was always so tight around him, her body refusing to part from his. Drawing him as deeply into her as she possibly could, as if she were trying to burn the feeling of him into her very soul.

He groaned as she let out a keening moan, her entire body snapping around his clinging to him as if he were the only thing keeping her alive.

“Wait,” Kallian protested when he moved to withdraw, there was a hint of… something in her voice, “can we just… stay like this for a while?”

“What’s wrong, _mi amore?”_ he asked flipping them over to keep his weight from crushing her.

“I just… I’m scared,” Kallian admitted.

“Of what?”

“I’ve been so happy that it scares me… I just… can’t help this feeling of absolute fear that everything will fall apart and I’ll lose everything all over again.”

“You won’t.”

“Zevran… I watched my entire life come brutally crashing down around me in the span of a few hours… all my hopes and dreams cast aside as if they were nothing… what’s to keep it from happening again?”

“You are not the same woman as you were then… and do not forget: I am a rather accomplished assassin myself.”

“You’re not allowed to die of anything other than old age… I hate that I’m like this… but I would die without you.”

“And I could say the same of you,” he replied holding her tighter against him as she buried her face in his chest.

He wished he could go back in time. That _he_ could have been her betrothed and have been able to protect her from this agony and fear that continued to loom over her… but he couldn’t.

All he could do now was offer her gentle reassurances whenever her inner demons reared their ugly heads. She was getting better, he knew, but it would still take time for her to completely heal from her trauma… for him, Rinna had perished two years ago. But for her… for her, it had happened earlier that year… and directly afterward, she had been forced into a lifestyle that not only did she not want but also completely went against her upbringing. She had been taught not to stand out amongst Humans, and to be extra careful of her surroundings when outside of the Alienage. That she could be raped, killed, or both if she wasn’t. That she should always mind her place as an Elf…

He had an awful upbringing, yes, but his heart had been beaten out of him at an early age, hers had been nurtured with tender love and care.

Their people have survived through enough injustices… she would give them the lives they deserved for their contributions, for the aid they’ve given… and he would help her. How? Outside of killing people, he wasn’t quite sure… but he’ll figure something out.

Or she will… she was better at that than he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New year, new king.


	57. How the Cat Let Herself Out of the Bag

She didn’t care what anyone else said, Queen or not, she was going to fight on the front-lines along with Alistair… of course, their genius tactician would never deprive her of that experience…

Speaking of their genius tactician, she was extremely happy for her and Zevran, but she was also worried that their sex life would get in the way of her duties… though that worry seemed to be unfounded considering that Kallian flew through the work she was given as the new general of Ferelden’s army like a speed demon. She completely breezed through documents detailing the strength of their forces, as well as going through march orders and formations… Alistair even swore he saw her working on three different documents at the same time.

Some of the banns had been coming to Arl Eamon’s estate to ask for orders, some of them giving her snark for being an eighteen-year-old Elven woman, before being given a death glare and a stern word from her… as the future Queen of Ferelden and the Teyrna of Highever, they didn’t have much to say against her.

Though, Kallian’s tactical and strategical brilliance spoke for itself… along with her overall charisma.

She’s always appreciated that Kallian always took the time to fully explain the reasoning behind her decisions, and patiently answered any and all questions that came towards her. It was one of the reasons Alistair had grown so much, Kallian never expected him to just go along with her decisions: she always took the time to explain why she did the things she did. Likely, it was because she, herself, refused to blindly follow orders, and treated everyone else similarly. It was something that various members of the gentry seemed to appreciate, along with the fact that she had actually taken the time to learn about their enemy.

To Kallian, ignorance was the true enemy.

And just as she’s always said: it takes time and patience to change people's hearts.

“So, Kalli… I was thinking,” Alistair said, “since we’re going to give the Dwarves aid against the Darkspawn after the Blight… what would your opinion be of granting the Circle independence, and offering land to the Dalish? We can attach it to your teyrnir to make sure that you get to control the relations between them and us… what do you think?”

“I think that that sounds like a fantastic idea,” Kallian replied with a nod, “improving relations with the different factions inhabiting Ferelden would do wonders for our unity and stability… and showing them that we have not forgotten what they’ve done for us is a great way to ensure mutual trust between all of us. They’ll know that if they come to us for help, we will aid them, just as they aided us, mya.”

“We’ll be joining Arl Eamon in Redcliffe in two days, right?” Alistair asked.

“That is indeed the plan, yes,” Kallian nodded, “for just in case purposes, I’ll be stationing a few units of the army around Denerim along with the Dalish and a handful of mages.”

“I’m also done scheduling the evacuation of Denerim,” Alistair added, “it’ll take place in roughly two weeks.”

“Good,” Kallian replied.

“We’re also preparing to send a messenger to give the border guard an update,” she added, “though it’ll take them a few days to get there.”

“Good to hear, fate be willing, we’ll be able to end this Blight before it can do much damage,” Kallian nodded before letting out a loud sigh and hiding her face in her hands, “…holy fuck I’m leading an army… how did this happen? Who thought this was a good idea?”

“By being the most qualified person to lead the army,” she answered, “and we still think it’s a good idea. Arl Eamon and a lot of the bannorn agree.”

“I’m an ELVEN woman!” Kallian argued, “most armies don’t even allow Elves to _join_. And I’m _leading_ it now! I don’t even know how to wear _armor!_ This is bat-shit insane!”

“And you’re going to be a Teyrna,” Alistair pointed out, “the first Elven woman to get appointed to lead a Human army, and the first Elven noble in Ferelden… I’d venture to say you’re going to become greater than Garahel.”

 _“This is bat-shit insane_. What’s even happening anymore?” Kallian repeated, “oh wait, I forgot… it’s best just to not think about it.”

***

Being the intended recipient of blissful smiles and gentle caresses was a far better experience than he had imagined… she was seeing _him_ , looking at _him_ , not the ghost of an almost lover… part of him couldn’t help but be incredibly irritated that such a look was once for someone else… Jealousy, he knew, it still shocked him how intensely he felt it…

Who knew he could be so possessive?

But then she seemed to bring that out of him… though, admittedly, she brought out many different sides of him that he hadn’t thought himself capable of.

There was a slight tinge of pain on his chest… she’d nipped at him.

“What are you thinking about?” Kallian asked.

“You,” he replied simply.

“Wah!” Kallian squeaked flushing completely red and burying her face in his chest, causing him to chuckle.

Another surprised squeak as he flipped them over, pulling her beneath him, a flash of realization sparked in her eyes as a coy smile found its way to her face.

Only he got to see her like this, only he got to touch her like this… a claim on her that she would never dispute… but sometimes… sometimes he couldn’t help but want to roughly push and pull her around. Something she appeared not to mind, considering that she allowed him to do so. As well as the fact that she gave as good as she got as well… his body carried more marks from their love-making than hers. Though he would love to truly mark her as he desired, she was far more bashful than he, and her skin tone was much lighter than his, so the marks he left on her stood out far more than hers… in fact, unless you were inspecting him closer than either of them would care for, you would likely never see them.

Neither of them really wanted to leave their bed, but there was a Blight to end.

Still, he couldn’t help the clouded look on his Heart’s face as she got dressed.

“What’s wrong, _mi amore?”_ he asked.

“Zevran… there’s something that I’ve been hiding… from everyone,” Kallian admitted quietly, “and I think… that you should know what it is before everyone else.”

The look on her face told him that it was something serious… and something she was afraid of admitting.

“What is it?”

“It’s something I planned on never ever ever telling absolutely anyone… Promise you won’t hate me?”

“I could never,” he replied reassuringly as she took his hand and began pressing her fingers into it.

She always spoke of how she loved his hands, but he loved hers as well.

He noticed her opening and closing her mouth a few times… something she only did when she had difficulties saying something.

What was she hiding?

“The reason why things call me ‘Traveler’, the reason why my fighting style is so unique, the reason why I know so much, the reason why Diana and I are so close, and the reason why I have an idea for curing the Taint,” Kallian said after taking a deep breath, “is because I remember my last life… in my last life, I lived in a world that was incredibly different than this one. They could tell that I lived in a different world and that I remembered.”

As far-fetched as that sounded… he could actually believe that. It had always seemed as though she knew and understood more than she should… not only that, but he’s been there when other beings had called her ‘Traveler’.

He could also understand her reluctance to talk about it… if it were made known, Templars would have thought her possessed by a demon and killed her. Or she would have been thought insane when she wasn’t.

Still, his Heart was such a silly woman to think that he would care about such a thing… but then, he already knew that she had a tendency to worry about things unnecessarily.

“How did you die?”

“Of illness when I was twenty-three.”

“Then, let’s hope you outlive your previous self, yes?” he grinned.

“You… don’t think differently of me?”

“Kallian, _mi amore_ , that is simply part of who you are, yes?” he replied and she nodded, “and I love you, as you are.”

Telling her proclamations of love had been becoming easier and easier… likely because she so freely declared her own love for others.

“You need to stop being you… if you’re not careful, I’m going to become way too emotionally dependent on you.”

“Oh? I’m fine with that… the more dependent on me you are, the fewer chances there are of you leaving me, yes?”

“Do you even know what you’re saying?”

“That I never want you to leave my side?”

“I hope you know that I _will_ go berserk and kill you if you decide to leave me.”

“Well… if I did that after making you dependent on me then I deserved it.”

Hungry lips claimed his, as he felt hands beginning to tug at his clothes, as his own fingers began undressing her as well. He pushed her back down onto the bed. As much as he liked her more aggressive side, he also liked to be the one more in control. She was the one who made their decisions and their plans outside of the bedroom, but inside the bedroom, he liked having her at his mercy. Riling her up, stoking up the flames of her lust, driving her absolutely mad with desire. He entered her quickly and began to set a punishing pace.

“Did you leave any lovers behind in that life?” he asked with a growl.

“No,” Kallian gasped, “there has always only been you… and there will always only be you.”

“That’s right,” he replied, “and no one else will ever have you.”

He couldn’t help but want to make sure she knew she was his… throughout his entire life, everything he’d ever cherished came with the risk of being taken away by the Crows. He had not allowed himself to be attached to anyone or anything since there was always a chance that it would one day disappear. Something he had known and accepted… but her… he refused to lose her.

Of course, he already knows how calculating, manipulative, and absolutely monstrous she could be. How she could become an uncontrollable terror the likes of which have never been seen… and he enjoyed the thought of someone caring for him that much… the Crows had thought him worthless, as just another tool they could use to further their own goals. But with her? With her he was necessary, he was irreplaceable, he was _needed_. He wasn’t just another Crow nor was he a nameless lover to be forgotten… he was _Zevran_.

He thought of her as his Heart, because he knew that he would surely die without her.

And there was nothing he wouldn’t do to ensure she stayed by his side… and he knew that she was the same.

***

On one hand, she was glad that he took it well… on the other… it was interesting how obsessed he seemed to be with being her first. Probably had something to do with his possessiveness… which she didn’t mind in the least, as long as it didn’t impede their day-to-day.

In all honesty: she enjoyed it.

She couldn’t help it… the sense of superiority that came with it gave her a rush. He had so many nameless lovers in his past, and yet she was the one who he wanted. She was the one who drove him crazy. She was the one he wanted to stay with at any and all costs. 

She could tell that he was more or less the same in some way… that he got off on the fact that he was the one she wanted despite the fact that she supposedly had numerous potential suitors… honestly, she still couldn’t believe that that was a thing. That Shianni had chased away everyone else.

To that end, at least their incredible possessiveness of each other was mutual, and not strongly one way or the other. Otherwise… it might not end pretty considering that anyone who tried to take him from her declared their own lives forfeit. She’s lost too much to lose him too.

“What were you like in your last life?” Zevran asked.

“I don’t really remember,” she answered, “I don’t really remember my own experiences… but I do remember what I learned… why that is? I have no clue.”

“Then are you certain you didn’t leave behind a lover?”

“Yes… if I had, I probably would have actually known what I was doing when we…” she felt the blood rush to her face.

“Always so bashful,” Zevran chuckled.

“I can’t help it… in any case, I think I was a perfectionist with a short attention span… in that, I picked up new hobbies and interests all the time, and then strove to be the absolute best at it… and then get bored and never want to touch it again… which is why my pool of knowledge is so large… I couldn’t stay interested in the same thing so I branched out to a lot of different ones. Though, I always stuck with martial arts, philosophy, and such.”

“When are you planning on telling the others?”

“I don’t know… eventually?”

“You are the youngest forty-one-year old I’ve ever bedded,” Zevran said thoughtfully and she hit him lightly on the arm with a frown.

“That is the age I would have been had I not died, yes,” she sighed, “but I died at twenty-three… for all intents and purposes: I’m mentally twenty-three.”

“Who else have you told?”

“No one,” she replied, “just you.”

“So, Diana is from that world as well?”

“Yes… hence why I always say that our bond transcends lifetimes… though she died of old age sometime before I did… her name in that world was Mochi, though I called her Chi-chan.”

“Ahhh… so what was it that you said to her while we were dealing with the Dalish?”

“Chi-chan, _yamete_ … _yamete_ translates to ‘stop’ in Japanese.”

“Japanese?”

“The language of my ancestors in that world… I’d love to tell you about that world… but I really would like to spend time with our family before we head back out to end the Blight.”

“‘Our’ family?”

“We’re getting married after the Blight, right?” she asked, “when we do, my family will become your family… so m—WAH!”

…They were really failing at getting out of bed today.

Admittedly, last time was her fault… but for some reason, she just thought his possessiveness of her as sexy. She was fully aware that it was weird, and that many people would get majorly turned off by that level of possessiveness… and a lot of people would be planning their escape… But she just couldn’t help it and she didn’t know why. 

Maybe it’s because the Crows took and took and took from him, and he simply accepted it with resigned indifference… but her? He was willing to fight for her, and would do anything to keep her at his side… that sounded plausible.

Ah, well, no use dwelling on it, might as well just have fun with it.

Especially since he seemed to be the exact same way… it was probably just part of why they were perfect for each other.

Still…

“Zevran,” she sighed her head automatically turning to grant him more access to her neck, “I just sa—”

“We have time,” Zevran murmured, and she could feel his breath on her ear, “you wanted to stay in Denerim for another day or so, yes?”

“Yes, so that I could spend time with my family.”

“Will I not be your family in the future?”

She had absolutely no argument to that, though thinking was a little hard at the moment considering that he had the advantage in bed. He knew her body, and he had more than enough experience to turn her in a puddle of absolute want, need, and desire. Part of her also loved it when he pushed her around like this, though she still wasn’t really into BDSM, because she liked turning the tables every now and again… the challenge and excitement of it did things for her… as did the expression on his face every time she did.

“That’s true,” she replied flipping them over leaning over him to lick and nip at the skin of his neck, “but _you_ will be able to spend every.single.day with me.”

She couldn’t keep the triumphant smirk from her face as he groaned in frustration as she ground herself against him. Her eyes captured his as she lifted herself up and then slid down on him. She absolutely adored the look in his eyes the moment their bodies joined together. Of course, she always loved the way he looked at her, but there was just something special about that moment… she wasn’t really sure what it was, but just like everything else involving Zevran: she didn’t have to understand it to love it.

“Your words and actions are telling me rather different things, _mi amore,_ ” Zevran grinned stilling his movements after flipping them over again, “so tell me: what is it you truly want?”

“You,” she replied rolling her hips against his, wrapping an arm around his neck so that she could whisper in his ear, “and you, want me, nya?”

Ahhh, she loved that face. 

It was a look that couldn’t decide whether he wanted to take her roughly, or torment her slowly… then again, she loved every expression he made.

***

He still wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that his cousin was in love with a man that had tried to kill her… and that his uncle and cousin had given him their blessings.

On one hand, he was glad that he was able to help her move past Nelaros… but on the other? He tried to kill her… Though he trusted Kallian, she never made stupid decisions, she always thought through her options.

Of course, even he could tell that he wouldn’t try to kill her again and that he wouldn’t even think about hurting her. But she was still his cousin who’d seemingly returned from the dead…

Well, at least she seemed happy and at peace… and considering what happened during their wedding, that was a huge relief. After she’d left, he was constantly worried about how she was emotionally holding up. And when he’d seen her after she’d come home… he’d never seen her so ragged and tired looking. Even after she’d eaten and rested, she’d looked like she was nearing the end of her rope.

“How did the Landsmeet go?” he asked.

“Ferelden has a new King and Queen,” Kallian answered, “and I’m apparently leading an army now.”

“Your Mother would be… shocked, and angry,” Cyrion replied, “since you joined the people who she tried to protect you from… but if she knew what you were doing now? She would have been beyond proud. I know I am.”

“She’s probably rolling in her grave screaming at Duncan,” Kallian laughed causing Cyrion to chuckle.

“When will you be leaving next?” Cyrion asked.

“…Tomorrow,” Kallian replied looking down, “I don’t know when we’ll be back.”

“Well, you do have a Blight to end,” Cyrion replied patting her on the head, “just make sure that you _do_ come home, okay?”

“I will make sure of it,” Zevran replied.

“Father… Shianni, Soris,” Kallian said, “there’s a chance the Darkspawn will march on Denerim… so I had Alistair schedule an evacuation of the city, it’ll take place in two weeks… there’s also a chance that they’ll beat us to the punch and if that happ—”

“We’ll treat it like a Purge or a riot,” Shianni replied rolling her eyes, “don’t worry: we’ve lived through this before, we’ll do it again.”

“Yeah, Kalli,” he replied wryly, “we survived almost a year without you, we’ll be fine.”

“Well… I’m sure you two have much to prepare for,” Cyrion replied, “you’d best head off now.”

“Alright,” Kallian replied, “we’ll see you again when we can, Father.”

***

They were leaving for Redcliffe in the morning… and he’s seen to some of his duties as King as competently as he could… currently.

He still couldn’t believe he was the King of Ferelden.

“Alistair, Elissa,” Kallian said, “can I have a private word with you?”

“Of course,” he replied as he and Elissa followed her into Arl Eamon’s sitting room.

Zevran and Diana were there as well which concerned him a little.

“What’s going on?” Elissa asked.

“About curing the Taint, to preface, this is going to sound absolutely insane, but I assure you, it’s true,” Kallian began, “Diana, and I, were reborn here after dying in another world… hence why things kept outing me as a ‘Traveler’, why you’ve never seen my fighting style before, why I know so much, and why I was so insistent on naming that sword Excalibur.”

“I’d ask if this was where I back away slowly,” he replied, “but… considering everything so far, it makes sense… Wait so why Excalibur?”

“Excalibur was the legendary sword wielded by King Arthur, who embarked on an impossible quest: finding the Holy Grail,” Kallian recounted, “the Holy Grail was a religious artifact described to have miraculous properties, including the ability to cure all illnesses… it was guarded by the Fisher King, who acquired his name by having a crippled leg and only being capable of fishing.”

“Ohhh… so that’s why you went crazy after we found Brother Genitivi,” he replied in realization.

“Yeah… didn’t actually think we’d be able to find the Holy Grail, but we did,” Kallian sighed.

“How did you die?” Elissa asked.

“Of illness, at the ripe old age of twenty-three,” Kallian answered, “and I’m being facetious about twenty-three being an old age… my Grandfather was in his nineties and looked younger than Wynne…”

“So, what’s your idea for curing the Taint?” Elissa asked to get them back on track.

“In the world of my past life, blood was an important part of our health-care system,” Kallian explained, “such that getting blood drawn was a pretty routine procedure… they use a hypodermic needle, which is hollow and is generally attached to a syringe to draw blood so that they can run blood tests… which allowed health-care professionals to check for illnesses, nutritional deficiencies, as well as if there were possible abnormalities with your internal organs… we also had blood banks where people would donate blood in or—”

“Donate blood?” he asked with a frown.

“In order to save lives,” Kallian continued with a sigh, “if a patient loses too much blood, during an operation, or following an accident, or even if they have an illness which keeps their bodies from producing enough healthy blood, a health-care professional has the ability to inject someone else’s blood into their body until their bodies are able to produce enough blood to sustain itself. Of course, there were certain conditions that had to be met with donating and receiving blood… for one, you could only donate to and receive blood from people with compatible blood types, of which there were eight. A Positive and Negative, B Positive and Negative, AB Positive and Negative, and O Positive and Negative. If you inject a person with incompatible blood…they’ll die. Their bodies will try to kill themselves because they don’t recognize the blood as ‘friendly’, it sees it as an ‘intruder’ that must be eliminated. Of course, you can’t just pour blood into a person’s wound either, you have to inject it directly into the bloodstream… I could even venture as to say that the success and failure rate of the Joining partially has to deal with blood compatibility.

“To the point: no one used blood for any reason other than saving lives… blood can be used for more than summoning demons like an idiot… it can be used to _save lives_. Not only that but because of our extensive blood research, we were able to figure out ways to detect a lot of different illnesses early on, which phenomenally increases a patient's chances of survival. Since blood runs throughout a person's entire body, it’s a good way to find out if there are abnormalities that should be checked… Many illnesses are carried in the bloodstream.

“If we study blood samples from several different Humans, Dwarves, and Elves, and maybe Qunari but I doubt it, there’s a chance we could learn early detection methods and even cures for illnesses and diseases… including the Taint. Though, for that one, I would speculate having to also study blood samples from various types of Darkspawn… I would also like to study blood samples from healthy and Tainted Mabari along with the method of completely curing them of the Taint.”

“You… want to do blood magic?” Elissa asked.

 _“CHIGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAU!_ ” Kallian replied angrily, “blood RESEARCH, not MAGIC there’s a difference! With RESEARCH I would like to STUDY the PHYSICAL properties of blood… nothing to do with playing with things you shouldn’t be playing with.”

“What does that word mean?” Zevran asked.

“Basically, ‘wrong’,” Kallian replied, “I was fluent in three languages and had a habit of randomly using words from one of them because I forgot the word in the language I was currently speaking… also for dramatic effect.”

“So what language was that?” he asked.

“Japanese,” Kallian answered, “in any case, if we do enough research, my hope is that we’ll be able to isolate the Taint and then neutralize it with the use of medicine.”

“What will you need?” he asked.

“People who are trustworthy and open-minded,” Kallian answered, “and maybe a half dozen _skilled_ mages… though I have one up in Soldier’s Peak…”

“Is that why you asked Avernus about blood magic?” Zevran asked.

“Yep,” Kallian nodded, “ah, by the way, I’m in league with a blood mage.”

“You know the Chantry would never allow this,” he pointed out.

“Tell you what: I’ll start caring about what the Chantry thinks when it starts caring about the people they supposedly watch over,” Kallian replied, “I can count the number of times I’ve seen a priest come to the Alienage for reasons other than officiating a marriage on one hand. Also, did you hear that one woman in Kinloch Hold? She was afraid of herself and hated that she was born a mage. Elves and Humans all suffer from internalized oppression. No one should have to grow up under that.”

“What kind of world did you live in?” Elissa asked.

“In the place where I lived, people encouraged each other to take pride in their heritages, and celebrated each other's cultures,” Kallian answered, “and where people lived with unconditional love and compassion in their hearts… and then I was reborn here where there’s so much discrimination that it was honestly a pretty huge culture shock.”

Diana whined as though she too, remembered and missed the land they had lived in.

“Why were two of you reborn here?” he asked.

“Dunno, cosmic mix-up?” Kallian shrugged, “in any case, finding a cure for the Taint is something that won’t just benefit Grey Wardens: it’ll benefit anyone who ever got sick with it as well… and I’m sure Dwarves will also appreciate it. Not only that but finding ways to detect and treat illnesses early on will drastically increase survival rates… so the question becomes: will you prioritize a religion that promotes discrimination? Or saving lives?”

“Why don’t we focus on ending the Blight first,” he replied, “and then we’ll see.”

“A satisfactory answer,” Kallian nodded.

***

She wasn’t sure what to make of Kallian’s revelations… A lot of what she’d said made sense. Even if she were naturally gifted, which she had a feeling she was, her pool of knowledge had always seemed like it was disproportionate to the environment she grew up in… and she’d especially thought so after seeing the Alienage first hand… and despite everything, Kallian moved and acted with more grace and poise than most nobles she’s seen.

Still… the thought of blood ‘research’ was enough to give her pause.

“If your world was so medically advanced, how did you die?” she asked.

“My illness took a turn for the worst, as such things are apt to do,” Kallian answered, “but… doctors and researchers were constantly trying to find new ways of saving lives, of finding cures for illnesses thought to be incurable, and in many cases, after years and years of study, they succeeded… they were able to do these things because they didn’t let religion and fear hold them back, their only concern was giving people a better chance of survival… though many of them did it for revenge.”

“Revenge?” she asked.

“Mm… revenge against the illness that took the life of their loved ones,” Kallian nodded, “so that others don’t have to experience the pain they did.”

“What was dying like?” Alistair asked.

“I was in so much mental, emotional, and physical pain, that it was a very welcome experience,” Kallian answered, “dying of illness sucks, it’s hard on everyone. I had to see the physical and emotional exhaustion on the faces of my friends and family… watching someone else die of illness sucks. I’ve been on both sides.”

“By the way, Kalli,” Alistair said, “is that why you’re so good at switching between crazy and sane?”

“Pretty much,” Kallian snapped her fingers into a thumbs up, “I got taught that if I was ever feeling threatened or wanted people to leave me alone, all I had to do was act like a crazy and deranged person. Because _no one_ wants to deal with that kind of crazy. _No one_ … while I’m dishing out the goods, never trust anyone a dog doesn’t trust, be cautious of anything or anyone that seems too good to be true, and always be wary of people with charisma… There’s usually a catch, or a quirk, behind things that seem too good to be true, and it’s easy to get blinded by a person's charisma.”

“So… you?” Alistair asked.

“Yes,” Kallian replied blankly, “thankfully, I’m self-aware enough that that shouldn’t become a problem.”

She already knew that Kallian had to be watched closely and that she was dangerous… because Kallian had told her that herself…

And Kallian always thought that it was important for people to know the dangers associated with different things.

***

Well, that didn’t go as bad as she’d thought it might, in fact, it went well. She’ll probably tell Leliana and Morrigan at some point… maybe after the Blight. For now, Alistair and Elissa were the only ones who needed to know, considering that they too, were affected by the Taint that ran through their veins… and she needed their cooperation.

She spread the news through her own channels that people should prepare themselves to evacuate Denerim, making sure to list her reasons.

They finished their last heist for Slim… since their previous attempt turned up as a trap.

She knew well enough that he wouldn’t have set that trap up for her, considering that he’s been a loyal friend through the years… 

“Dark Wolf?” she asked, “I’m a cat… not a wolf.”

“Do you really want others to know that it was you behind the robberies?” Slim asked.

“You have a point,” she replied.

“I’ll see to it that this is given to the Chantry,” Slim nodded, “good luck, Robin.”

“You too, Slim,” she replied waving as she walked off.

Maybe he’d be up for a change of employers once the Blight was over. He was Elf-blooded, and practically grew up in the Alienage, so he knew their plight…

Plus he’d be a good indicator of whether she was becoming the type of noble they hated or not.

“Figures she’d go for an Elf,” Oghren commented as they returned to Arl Eamon’s estate.

“She who?” Zevran asked.

“You and Kallian,” Oghren replied, “we all know what’s going on there.”

“Oh? Does that make you jealous, my stout little friend?” Zevran asked.

“Oh dear gods in heaven, please stop,” she groaned.

“Me? Hah!” Oghren laughed ignoring her, “last thing I need is another woman in my life.”

“One wife was enough for you, was she?” Zevran asked, “though I thought things were going well with that Dwarven woman, Felsi.”

“Aye, they are,” Oghren replied, “and Branka was only slightly more woman than I am. Bristle-chinned poetess.”

“Shocking that our fair Grey Warden didn’t choose you instead,” Zevran replied.

“Wonders never cease,” Oghren replied, “I thought she had a better head on her shoulders.”

“I thought so too,” she sighed, “never let it be said that the wear down method doesn’t work, nya.”

“I am quite certain that he is already aware of that, _mi amore_ ,” Zevran replied.

“Rude,” she replied, “in any event, we’ll be leaving at first light, let’s all get some rest.”

“As if you’ll be getting any,” Oghren laughed.

“True, there are a few documents I’d like to go over one more time,” she sighed, “well, rest well everyone.”

She knew what he meant by that, but she’d be damned if she reacted the way he wanted her too.

Even if it were probably true.

Definitely true…

Ah… since she’s told Zevran, she can go back to writing out what she remembered of the _Tao Te Ching_.

_End sagacity; abandon knowledge_  
_The people benefit a hundred times_  
_End benevolence; abandon righteousness_  
_The people return to piety and charity_  
_End cunning; discard profit_  
_Bandits and thieves no longer exist_  
_These three things are superficial and insufficient_  
_Thus this teaching has its place:Show plainness; hold simplicity_  
_Reduce selfishness; decrease desires._

“What are you writing, _mi amore?_ ” Zevran asked.

“The chapters that I remember of my religious text, the _Tao Te Ching_ ,” she replied handing the journal to him, “I practiced Taoism an East Asian religion whose name translates to ‘The Way’… it’s a philosophical religion. In that world… philosophers saw the suffering and pain, and they contemplated how to make it less so, so they thought up different governmental systems… and all sorts of different ways to better life… which is admittedly why I wanted to turn Alistair into a philosopher… but Taoism embraces the natural order of things, finds harmony in chaos, and knows and understands that things exist in dualities… _Wu wei_ action without intent… there are eighty-one chapters total… but I do _not_ remember all of them.”

“This looks like a very easy-going religion,” Zevran mused flipping through her book.

“Because it is,” she laughed, “in mindset, I suppose it can be similar to the Qun, but Taoism rejects rigid structures and encourages people to find their own paths.”

“Hmm… how interesting,” Zevran hummed appreciatively, “you know, I could grow to like this.”

“You won’t need to convert,” she replied wryly, “Taoism isn’t a religion that forces you into only believing in that… I mean, I was also Shinto, which is a Japanese religion that’s kind of similar to the Avvar… so, lotsa gods. Though, Shinto also borrowed a lot from Taoism so the two walked hand in hand pretty well.”

“I see…” Zevran replied setting the book aside, “however, we are leaving Denerim in the morning, yes?”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed knowing exactly where this was going.

“And I am going to guess that you would not be willing to make love to me while we are traveling, yes?”

“Mmmhm,” she hummed again, she could feel the smile playing on her lips, “one Warden still needs to be awake at all times.”

“So, what do you think we should do in the time we have now?”

“I think you have something in mind, don’t you?” she asked in return, feeling his hands on her.

“Well… naturally,” Zevran replied with a grin as he became her world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Tao Te Ching Chapter Nineteen_


	58. How the Witch and the Crow Conspired to Save the Cat

She thanked the fact that in her last life, she had zero attention-span. It taught her how to finish shit as quickly as possible so that she could get to goofing off faster. And because she was also a major procrastinator, she often waited until the absolute last minute to get shit done. She learned to channel her ADHD into being able to work on multiple things at the same time, though, in those days, her main worries were just the sheer amount of homework she had, not leading a fucking army. Which reminded her: she used to be a lot better at remembering things that weren’t interesting or relevant to her life in her last life, and had a much better attention-span in this one… 

She traded her ability to memorize things in for a better attention span…

Interesting.

They were back to staying up half the fucking night again because of the Archdemon’s assassins… wait… Knowing where they were, yeah, alright, the gross Darkspawn sensor goes both ways, that makes sense… But how did the Archdemon know that they’re becoming a threat? Thinking about it, how do Archdemons know where major cities and other culturally significant sites are and know to attack them there? There’s no way they could know… unless…

Unless the Archdemon can sense their thoughts… Older Grey Wardens can understand the Archdemon… whose to say that the Archdemon couldn’t understand them?

She didn’t have enough evidence to make assumptions like this.

Even if the Archdemon could use their connection to the Blight to read their thoughts, there was no sense worrying about it. There was nothing they could do, what was done was done.

_The great generals are not warlike_  
_The great warriors do not get angry_  
_Those who are good at defeating enemies do not engage them_  
_Those who are good at managing people lower themselves_  
_It is called the virtue of non-contention_  
_It is called the power of managing people_  
_It is called being harmonious with Heaven_  
_The ultimate principle of the ancients_

She never thought she’d be the type to miss sex this much but, well, here she was. They slept in the same tent, but nothing beyond that… and she was craving more than chaste embraces, and innocent touches. She wanted to feel his hands gliding over her skin, she missed the feeling of how completely and utterly _full_ she felt when he made love to her. Of the warmth that had spread throughout her as he filled her to the brim with his love.

She wanted to kiss him, feel his lips on hers… but she knew that if they did, they wouldn’t be able to stop.

Was this how he felt before?

Probably.

“I have thought about what you said before, Shayle,” Wynne said, “about slavery.”

“It is profitable,” Shayle replied, “so I am led to believe.”

“It is _wrong_ , and it is no more right to make a slave out of a golem,” Wynne replied, “I think… no one understood how golems were made, Shayle. Perhaps we should have suspected, but no one knew. Golems were like spells: useful.”

“I _am_ useful,” Shayle scoffed, “I’m better than any fireball, that I’m sure of.”

“It’s not the same thing… when this is over, I will make certain that the Circle of Magi knows the truth,” Wynne replied, “your people should not be treated as objects.” 

“I have no people,” Shayle laughed, “I mentioned the slavery because I knew it would be bothered, no other reason.”

“But I… it still deserves to…” Wynne replied seeming at a loss for words, “you are a very perverse creature, you know this?”

“It almost wishes it had a control rod, no?” Shayle continued laughing.

Wynne was a surprisingly easy target for others to toy with… whether the woman herself was aware of this or not, she wasn’t sure… but it sure was funny to observe.

“So you’ve heard, I hope?” Alistair asked turning to Morrigan, “how I’m going to be King? With a crown and everything.”

She just realized she’s probably not going to be able to call Alistair ‘Ali-butt’ in public ever again… drat.

“Proud of yourself, are you?” Morrigan asked in return.

“Well, they don’t let just anyone be king, you know?” Alistair replied, “they don’t let evil forest witches be king, for instance.”

“There was a Ferelden King once,” Morrigan recounted, “who drooled on himself in such volume that he required a constant attendant to wipe his chin in court.”

“You’re making that up,” Alistair balked.

“Not at all,” Morrigan replied, “the kings of old would be pleased to see their bloodline has not strayed very far from its roots.”

Ahhh… he really set himself up for that one.

At first glance, it looked like it was just the normal amount of them, but if you stepped away a bit more, you could see the small contingent of soldiers they were traveling to Redcliffe with and it really made her realize that she was the General of Ferelden’s army and that Alistair and Elissa were going to be the King and Queen of Ferelden.

And that they were marching to war…

She’ll need to build up a rapport with them so that they don’t think they can walk all over her… How? She had absolutely no clue.

She wrapped her arms around her lover from behind and squeezed as she nuzzled her face against his back… they should probably head to sleep sometime soon since she was on last watch… Zevran usually kept her company throughout her watch, something she’d always appreciated, even before they were actually together…

“What’s wrong, _mi amore?”_ Zevran asked and she just squeezed him tighter so he unwound her arms and turned around.

“Noooothing,” she replied as he wrapped his arms around her.

The man was making it incredibly difficult to not grow emotionally dependent on him, he’d even said that he’d prefer it since he apparently had fears that she’d leave _him_. Though she understood irrational fears, she had fears that he would leave her too. She was raised to be a servant, he was raised to be an assassin… that was a lifestyle meant for travel to wherever his next target was, and hers was one meant to stay in one place unless her employer brought her to wherever they traveled to. Would he really be satisfied leaving that kind of life behind for her? They’ve only known each other for under a year, and that year was spent traveling from one crazy town to the next.

And they’ve been _actually_ together for less!

What if he decides he doesn’t like being a noble and misses the uncertainties of the road? What if he thinks that he made a mistake in staying with her?

Honestly, she was aware that this would take time to get over, her encounter with that dip-shit Vaughan only happened earlier this year: it was a fresh wound, and she knew that it’d take time to heal over. She knew that she was being irrational and needed to be easier on herself, but still… reforging takes a lot of work.

She was also highly aware that his image of a loving relationship was probably skewed, growing up in that kind of environment doesn’t exactly teach a person what a healthy relationship is like. In fact, he probably wouldn’t be able to recognize one even if it hit him with a sledgehammer…

“I have a feeling that you are worrying about something unnecessarily,” Zevran commented.

“Maybe a little,” she replied nuzzling her face into his chest.

“A little?” Zevran asked.

“A lottle,” she amended.

“Is that a word from your past?”

“No, it’s just a ‘little’ combined with ‘a lot’.”

“Ah, I see. When will we arrive in Redcliffe?”

“Another two or three days,” she answered and Zevran sighed heavily, “I know, I feel the same… but unless you know how to teleport everyone to Redcliffe, we’re stuck traveling by foot.”

“I cannot wait until this Blight is over.”

“Me too,” she sighed.

Well, just like with everything else in life: they’ll figure it out as they go.

It’s the journey that’s the fun part, a satisfying destination is just an added bonus.

He may leave her one day, but worrying about that one day was useless, just like trying to cross a bridge a mile away. If he does… well, he has freedom, chaining him to her wouldn’t be fair after giving him that. So, while he’s here, she might as well just give him more reasons to stay.

The present is more important than the future, and what matters is that he’s here now.

***

After having spent weeks indulging themselves in their desires, going back to a sex-less life was… torturous. On both of them, he could tell. His Heart no longer kissed or touched him freely, not wanting to fan the flames of lust… but his body still yearned for hers, and hers for his. Part of him wanted to take her anyway, knowing full well that she wouldn’t mind, and that she wanted him just as badly.

But she was currently the leader of an army, as well as incredibly bashful.

He wondered when they would next be able to make love to each other, and could only hope that it would be soon.

He could also tell that Alistair and Elissa were more-or-less feeling the same… they were in high ranking positions, and couldn’t be caught with their pants down, both literally and figuratively. Especially considering that they were traveling with a group of soldiers who looked to them for guidance…

Not only that, but he’s always known how others look at her, and he would rather not give them a view of something that was meant only for his eyes… he wondered how many guards at Fort Drakon had seen her and how easy it would be to track them down…

“So are all of your kind similarly powerful, Qunari?” Shayle asked.

“I am not here to satisfy your curiosity, creature,” Sten replied.

“That is true,” Shayle replied, “I suppose I sounded like a Human, chattering away? I apologize.”

“No, it is I who should apologize,” Sten replied, “you are no Human, you are a vastly superior construct.”

“That’s kind of the Qunari to say,” Shayle mused, “if all of your people are like you, it is a wonder you haven’t crushed the Humans under your heel.”

“I have wondered this same thing,” Sten replied.

“One just need to look at them,” Shayle said looking to the Humans in their camp, “they’re so…”

“Small?” Sten supplied.

“Exactly,” Shayle nodded.

“You and I, we are of the same mind, _kadan_ ,” Sten replied.

“Small does not equate to being easily squished or killed,” Kallian said speaking up.

“True… it would probably take the might of an army to kill the Superior Warden,” Shayle replied.

“Hey now,” Kallian sighed, “that’s kind of overkill, isn’t it?”

“That army would also have to have leaders more competent than she is,” Sten nodded ignoring her, “otherwise she would use them against themselves.”

“Then it might be impossible to bring down the Superior Warden,” Shayle commented, “I highly doubt there are many who are as competent as it.”

“That’s not true,” Kallian frowned.

“Kalli… you basically took down Loghain and Anora,” Elissa commented, “remember?”

“That was Alistair,” Kallian corrected, “and as far as I’m concerned, Loghain and Anora brought about their own downfall… if anything, all I did was hold open the door.”

“You know… someone’s going to say the same thing about you, one day,” Alistair pointed out.

“Wooooooow, how rude,” Kallian clicked her tongue while shaking her head, “to think that I would one day forget those who helped me in my time of need, and screw over a country… If I overlook such things, then I _deserve_ whatever unfortunate thing comes my way… just as they did. You shouldn’t dwell on the past, but you still need to learn from it as you move towards the future, mya.”

“Is something the matter, Oghren?” Leliana asked hearing him sigh, “are you… are you thinking about Branka?”

“Branka…?” Oghren asked.

“You loved her, didn’t you?” Leliana asked, “I’ve seen you, some nights, staring off into the distance with such sadness in your eyes. You wonder if you did something that drove her away, you wonder if she would have stayed if you had done things differently… she must have loved you, somewhere inside.”

“That sodding great dew-licker had a heart clad in iron… she only had one love— the Anvil. And later? The Anvil,” Oghren scoffed, “only sighed because I was gassy, and finally let off a good one… should be hitting you right about now.”

Leliana began coughing and swiftly moving away, as his Heart began frantically fanning the air in front of her with the book she had been reading.

“Silent killer, eh?” Oghren laughed.

“I need… to run away,” Kallian said finally and quickly retreated to their tent.

He sighed as Oghren leered at him as he followed her.

She was removing her make-up, he’d always thought she looked more beautiful without it, but he knew better than to comment on it. Women like her did not wear make-up for anyone other than themselves. Not only that, but she also used it to intentionally make herself less attractive. The life of an Elven woman living amongst Humans was far harsher than the one of an Elven man.

He sat down behind her and began releasing her hair from their bonds, wishing he could simply push her down and have his way with her…

Part of him wondered if perhaps they should sleep in different tents. As much as he enjoyed falling asleep and waking up with her in his arms, being so tantalizingly close and yet so far from his sinful temptress was agonizing. Especially since now he knew what it was like to be buried in her, to hear her moan, and scream his name, to run his hands along her skin, to feel her gripping him tightly, holding him to her…

Just the memory of it was enough to drive him mad with desire.

A desire he could not currently act on…

At least they should be in Redcliffe in a few days.

Honestly, she worried about things so unnecessarily, she was probably worrying that he would one day leave her despite the fact that that was something _he_ should be worried about. He was born of a whore and raised as an assassin, what did he know about love? About caring for others? About saving lives, not ending them? About being in charge of a group of people? He was taught to obey orders without question, not give them. 

What if _she_ grew disillusioned? 

He couldn’t help but remember that woman in Orzammar. The one that had fallen in love with a casteless who seemed exotic, tough, and smart… what was her name again? Zerlinda? That sounded right. What if his Heart was only attracted to him because he was exotic and completely different from all the other men in her life?

Of course, he knew that she was not a shallow woman in the slightest. He was fully aware of what he was doing, of the fire he was playing with, but it was the only way he could really think of. He wasn’t brought up to know how to do these things, he was raised to seduce his way into a target's bed before killing them. 

This was completely different than anything he was taught, it wasn’t something he’d even considered one day having… this not only went against what he was taught but his expectations of the life he would live. Meeting his Heart had literally turned his life on its head, he had so much more now than he could have ever possibly imagined. He had freedom, he had someone he loved and wanted a future with, and who loved him in return. His Heart was afraid of him leaving, but he was just as afraid of losing her. Losing her would be like being cruelly woken up from a pleasant dream.

“Kallian,” he said and she hummed in response, “are you sure that you are fine with me?”

“Is this because you tried to kill me?” Kallian asked, “or because you were raised as an assassin, and don’t really know how to go about living a normal life and being in a normal relationship?”

“The second one.”

“The most normal thing to have happened to me this past almost year was getting attacked by a group of Human men in a tavern. My concept of ‘normal’ isn’t exactly all that great either. Not only that, but I am aware of your upbringing. This is just one of those things we’ll have to figure out as we go along. In short: don’t worry about it. Relationships are all about sharing experiences, getting through happy times and sad times together. So yes, I am fine with you. As long as you don’t either hit me, cheat on me, or try to control me, I think we’ll be fine.”

“Well… I would never allow you to be subjected to any of those experiences.”

“We both have uncertainties, but that’s just part of life: we’ll get through them together. Plus, I already told you, didn’t I? I think you’re fine just the way you are.”

“You’d best be prepared for when we finally reach Redcliffe… we’ll be in for a _very_ long night.”

“I would hope so,” Kallian replied, “in any case, let’s sleep… we have half a night of last watch.”

***

They were about an hour or two away from Redcliffe when her gut kicked in and she got filled with a sense of dread.

“We need to start running,” she announced tugging her gloves out of her back pocket to pull them on, “and get there like… now.”

“Why?” Alistair asked in alarm.

“Gut feeling,” she replied, “wild animal instincts. Whatever you want to call it. Does not matter, we need to get there.”

It didn’t take them long to see the smoke: Redcliffe was burning.

Darkspawn, if her dumb ass sensor was right.

Well… at least it wasn’t an uprising out of dissatisfaction with how the Landsmeet turned out. Though, with the amount of information she’d released, it was highly unlikely anyone would side against them.

“You… you’re the Grey Wardens!” a Man said running towards them, “Andraste’s mercy that you got here when you did! I thought for sure these monsters were going to get me!”

“When did the Darkspawn get here?” she asked.

“Just a few hours ago, not that long after everyone was evacuated to the castle,” the Man answered, “I thought I could make it to my home and back before they got here, but it took me too long to get down here. What a relief you arrived!”

“A few hours ago,” she mumbled closing her eyes, “they’re probably at the castle by now…”

“Where’s the Arl’s army?” Alistair asked.

“In the castle, I think,” the Man replied, “the Arl ordered everyone in the village evacuated there this morning, before the Darkspawn arrived.”

“Get to safety,” she ordered before turning to the soldiers that were traveling with them, making sure to keep her voice stern and clear, “men! Clear the village and check for anyone else who might’ve dallied too long. Do as much damage control as possible!”

She was a woman and an Elf… she was going to need to be a hard-ass if she wanted them to do what she fucking wanted them too… She can’t show even an iota of weakness or uncertainty…

WHY THE FUCK WAS SHE, AN ELVEN WOMAN, LEADING THE FUCKING ARMY?!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

She continued screaming internally as she bounced off of the wall of a house, and brought down an Ogre before flinging a dagger into the skull of a mage. Though, of course, the body of the messenger they’d sent did not escape her notice.

“My Lady!” a Soldier reported and she internally cringed at the title, “we found survivors.”

“Get them to safety and meet us at the castle,” she replied.

They fought their way across the bridge and to the Castle, she still hated fighting with other people. All she could do was trust that they knew their own shit as she flowed between enemies, striking at weak points, using them as shields as they continued to fight their way to the Castle. In her periphery, she saw spells and arrows being flung around by Wynne, Morrigan, and Leliana while Sten and Oghren cut others down with their two-handed swords. Alistair, Elissa, and Zevran weren’t too far away from her as Shayle squished skulls and stomped things out of existence, as Diana charged at them, being careful not to get their blood in her mouth.

Eamon’s soldiers were holding up admirably in the courtyard, and she didn’t miss the looks of relief upon seeing them as they joined the fray.

She bounced off of another wall, taking down another Ogre.

Their group normally just let her handle the Ogres since she practically had it down to a science at this point, Alistair being the only help she got if there weren’t any walls for her to bounce off of.

“Your Highnesses! My Lady!” the Guard said in relief and she knew that Alistair was internally cringing right along with her, “you’re all here! Thank goodness!”

“Where is Arl Eamon?” Alistair asked.

“He is inside with Riordan of the Grey Wardens, who arrived this morning just ahead of the Darkspawn,” the Guard answered, “I was told he has urgent news, and to send out patrols to watch for your arrival. Then we were attacked…”

Urgent news…? That’s… ominous.

There was a horrible twisting feeling in her gut, as she felt the cold hand of dread latch upon her back.

“Riordan?” Elissa asked, “what’s he doing here?”

“I don’t rightly know,” the Guard answered, “things happened so fast, I only know he was scouting in the south before he arrived.”

“Take us inside,” Alistair commanded as she ordered that their wounded to be tended to and stationed men in the courtyard, “there must be no more delays!”

“I shall take you to the hall right away, Your Highness,” the Guard nodded, “they’ll be waiting for you there.”

She heard people whispering about how they’d seen her take down two Ogres on her own as they entered the hall, bringing their wounded and the survivors they’d rescued earlier.

“It’s a relief to see you unharmed,” Riordan said greeting them, “and you as well, Alistair… or should I say, Your Majesty?”

“Err… no. No, I wouldn’t say that,” Alistair replied, “not yet, anyway.”

“The Darkspawn that attacked Redcliffe were relatively few in number, I’m afraid,” Riordan replied, “it was assumed the horde was marching in this direction… but that is not true.”

“Riordan tells us that the bulk of the horde is, in fact, heading towards Denerim,” Eamon continued, “they are perhaps two days away from the capital.”

And she felt the world fall out from under her… if they were marching on Denerim, then the Archdemon is likely leading them.

She fought to keep her face as neutral as possible, despite feeling the light inside of her get smothered out by the icy hand that had latched upon her back.

“What? Are we sure about that?” Alistair asked in shock, “I mean… if that’s true…”

“I ventured close enough to ‘listen in’, as it were,” Riordan nodded, “I am quite certain.”

“Why did we think they were headed here?” Elissa asked.

“The Darkspawn line is wide, and many of them roam away from the main horde,” Riordan answered, “until now, most of them have been spotted here in the west.”

“Not to mention that we’ve been too busy killing each other to pay much attention to some silly old Darkspawn horde,” Alistair sighed.

“The evacuation isn’t supposed to start for another week,” she bit the nail of her thumb, “though I did station a few squadrons near Denerim… the Dalish should be there too.”

“There is, I’m afraid one other piece of news that is of even greater concern,” Riordan added and she already knew what he was going to say, “the Archdemon has shown itself. The dragon is at the head of the horde.”

How was she going to face Zevran? There were only three Grey Wardens in Ferelden… and if Riordan falls, then the final blow would be up to her, because she was _not_ letting Alistair fall here. She couldn’t… Alistair would be a good King, of that she was sure, and she’d literally rather die than allow Anora to hold the throne.

And Riordan would likely fall, it’d be par for the course considering her luck this past year.

“Maker preserve us!” Teagan gasped.

“But we can’t reach Denerim within two days, can we?” Alistair asked, “it’s too far.”

“We must begin a forced march to the capital immediately, with what we have,” Eamon replied, “Denerim must be defended at all costs.”

“The Archdemon is the only thing that matters,” she replied, “once it’s defeated, the Darkspawn horde will break ranks and retreat.”

“And only the Grey Wardens can defeat the Archdemon,” Riordan nodded, “that is why we must go.”

She felt her heart sink, she already knew, but… she supposed part of her hoped that she was wrong…

Truly, she wasn’t meant to live a happy life… and… she’s dragged Zevran down with her… she shouldn’t have told him. She should have rejected him and pushed him away…

What has she done?

“Then we march, and hope the army we’ve collected here gives us the chance we need,” Alistair nodded, “Arl Eamon, how long before the troops we have here be able to set out?”

“By daybreak,” Eamon answered.

“Then let’s get them ready,” Alistair nodded, “I won’t let all those people die without giving them a chance.”

See? She knew that he would make a fantastic king…

“Then, there’s only one course of action we can take,” she replied, “we’ll take the battle to Denerim.”

“I will give the orders at once,” Eamon nodded, “and will notify you the moment we are ready to march.”

“That would be appreciated,” Alistair replied.

“Then if you and Alistair could meet me before you retire,” Riordan said turning to them, “we have Grey Warden business to discuss.”

“I will have someone show you to your rooms,” Eamon added, “I suggest you all get some rest, while you can. We will need it.”

***

The Archdemon has shown itself, and he knew exactly what his Heart was thinking. Neither he nor Morrigan had told her that there was a ritual that could save her life, reminding her of the Orlesian Wardens was honestly just a cover.

“So, what is your plan?” he asked quietly and Morrigan scowled at him.

“The ritual that Flemeth has given me,” Morrigan replied with a look of absolute disgust on her face, “involves the conception of a child bearing the Taint… Alistair must be convinced to lay with me… the soul of the Archdemon will be pulled into the child, rather than the Warden who deals the finishing blow. If Riordan falls, the final blow will come to either Kallian or Alistair, and we both know that Kallian would not allow Alistair to die.”

Ah, of course, she would not tell his Heart of this ritual, she would never force two people who absolutely hated each other to do something like this to save her life. As questionable as this ritual sounded… The Witch would not joke about something like this, and it was best not to question how Flemeth came to learn of this ritual.

“I see,” he replied, “though there is also our Future Queen to consider.”

“You… trust me?” Morrigan asked in shock.

“Well, you were the one who told me that I would lose her if I were not careful, yes?” he replied, “and that you did not want to lose her either?”

“That… ‘tis true, yes,” Morrigan nodded.

“If we cannot convince him,” he commented, “then I am certain that we could knock both him and Elissa out and carry out this ritual anyway.”

“We must keep Kallian distracted, then,” Morrigan replied, “if she learns of what we intend… she would not allow it.”

“Well, that should not be too hard,” he replied, “she has high tolerance to poisons, but she is not immune to being knocked out from being hit, as you know… if need be, we can simply knock her out as well.”

***

“There you are,” he sighed seeing Kallian approach, “let’s go see what Riordan has to say.”

“Let’s,” Kallian nodded and they both pushed into the room.

“You are both here, good,” Riordan said, “you are new to the Grey Wardens, and you may have not been told how an Archdemon is slain… I need to know if that is so.”

“You mean there’s more to it than just, say, chopping off its head?” he asked.

“So it is true… Duncan had not yet told you,” Riordan sighed, “I had simply assumed…”

“Ah, Alistair, you don’t need to listen to this,” Kallian declared as she began trying to push him out of the room, “yep, this really doesn’t concern you so you should go rest.”

“What? I think this is something I should know,” he protested.

“No, it’s not,” Kallian replied continuing to push him out of the room.

“Wait… do you know how to kill an Archdemon?” he asked causing Kallian to stop.

“Yes…” Kallian admitted quietly.

“Then Duncan told you and not Alistair?” Riordan asked.

“No… I figured it out myself,” Kallian sighed giving up entirely, “it wasn’t all that hard, truth be told… Alistair, I once asked you why we needed to physically alter our bodies to become Grey Wardens, right? The reason for that is… to end a Blight, a Warden must be sacrificed. I don’t know why that is, but I know that that is the reason.”

“The Archdemon may be slain as any other Darkspawn, yes, but should any other than a Grey Warden do the slaying, it will not be enough,” Riordan explained, “the essence of the beast will pass through the Taint to the nearest Darkspawn and will be reborn anew in that body. The dragon is thus all but immortal… but if the Archdemon is slain by a Grey Warden, its essence travels into the Grey Warden, instead.

“A Darkspawn is an empty, soulless vessel, but a Grey Warden is not. The essence of the Archdemon is destroyed… and so is the Grey Warden.”

“How long have you known?” he asked feeling anger well up in him as the shock wore off.

“Since before we cured Arl Eamon,” Kallian answered, “when you asked me if I had figured it out… I lied. I was so tired of living back then I saw it as a welcomed way out… But then Zevran happened, and Riordan… I figured the Orlesian Wardens would get here in time… shows me to think, doesn’t it?”

“You were never planning to tell me, were you?” he asked and she nodded, “you never intended to let me die to the Archdemon: you planned on ending the Blight with your own life.”

“Of course,” Kallian replied with a sad smile, “and I still don’t.”

“It warms my heart to see such courage, but you need not hurry so to sacrifice your life,” Riordan replied, “if possible, the final blow should be mine to make. I am the eldest, and the Taint will not spare me much longer… But if I fail, then the deed does fall to you. The Blight must be stopped now, or it will destroy all of Ferelden before the rest of the Grey Wardens can assemble. Remember that. But enough, there will be much to do tomorrow and little enough time to rest before it. I will let you return to your rooms.”

“I will see you once the army is ready to march, then,” he sighed, “I guess this ends soon, one way or another…”

“That it does, my friend,” Riordan nodded, “that it does.”

They closed the door behind them.

“I’m mad at you,” he commented, “how could you keep that from me?”

“I already told you why I kept it from you,” Kallian retorted before covering her face with her hands, “I… need to go find out how I’m supposed to face Zevran now…”

He watched her walk away on unsteady legs…

That’s right: Kallian had been traumatized in a way he would never be able to understand. To have her wedding ruined and then be kidnapped by Human nobles? And then to watch as a friend was cut down to set an example? Be forced to kill for the first time, and desperately fight her way through an estate, seeing the man she loved cut down right in front of her eyes before finding out that her cousin had been raped? Only then to also be forced into joining the Wardens by a Human man?

How could he understand the level of trauma she had experienced in the span of a few hours?

_“You think he can recover from that? From that much death? From causing that much pain!? NO ONE CAN RECOVER FROM THAT, ALISTAIR! NO ONE!”_

She knew the price of her actions, that there would be a reckoning brought down on the Alienage. She didn’t kill Connor because she tried to imagine what life would be like for him growing up. She knew first hand that no one could recover from being the reason that so many would die. She knew the pressure Connor would be living under because she was living under it herself…

Of course even _she_ would be tired of living after all of that…

_“Kalli is the most indomitable person I know, but even she has her limits…”_

***

When Alistair told her the price of ending the Blight, and that Kallian had known, she couldn’t believe her ears. She didn’t want to believe her ears: Kallian had never intended on surviving the Blight? That must have been why she had tried so hard to push Zevran away.

And when Morrigan came to them with an alternative? She couldn’t believe that either.

There was a way to save Kallian. There was a way to save the woman who she’d come to see as a best friend and a sister… But it meant that her lover had to have a one-night-stand with another woman.

She hated the thought of it, but more than she hated the thought of him sleeping with another woman. She hated the thought of letting Kallian die when there was something she could do to prevent it, and she had no doubt that Morrigan was the same. 

They would all regret letting Kallian die when they could save her.

And Zevran… if she were in Zevran’s place, she would want someone, anyone to do anything they could in order to save her lover.

“Does she even know about this?” Alistair asked angrily.

“No, she does not,” Morrigan replied, “she would never agree to this, she would never force you to sleep with me in order to save her own life.”

“Alistair, do it,” she said.

“What?! Do you—” Alistair protested.

“I… As much as I hate the thought of you having a one-night-stand… if— if you don’t, if Riordan falls, we would both regret this for the rest of our lives,” she said softly, “knowing that there was a way to save her. More than I hate the idea of this… I hate the thought of losing another family member to the Blight… I’ve already lost my parents, my sister-in-law, my nephew, and my brother… I would rather you sleep with Morrigan than lose someone else I care about… Especially when there was something that could be done to prevent it. Kalli has always been there for us, and not just that, but she almost lost her life to save you. If she hadn’t, and if she hadn’t saved Redcliffe as she did, we would have never met in the first place, and the thought of that hurts more than the thought of you sleeping with another woman.”

“I— you’re right,” Alistair sighed.

“And think about Zevran,” she added, “if Kalli were in your shoes… she would agree without even the slightest hint of hesitation.”

“She really would have,” Alistair agreed with another sigh.

She needed to go for a walk, to do something to distract her while she knew what the love of her life was doing with another woman. She walked through empty halls far away from where something she didn’t even want to think about was occurring until she heard muffled sniffling, and moved to see who it was. Kallian was alone, tears streaming down her face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked sitting next to the crying woman, “where’s Zevran?”

“Ah… sorry… and I don’t know where he is,” Kallian apologized wiping her face with her sleeve, “Alistair’s probably told you, yeah?”

“He did…” she replied quietly.

“Don’t worry, if it comes down to it, I won’t let him take that final blow,” Kallian replied with a sad smile, “I won’t… I won’t let him die to end the Blight.”

“But… but what about you?” she asked.

“I’m not afraid of dying, never have been,” Kallian replied, “but I… was just thinking about those I’ll be leaving behind… My family who I’d just reunited with, who cried when they found out I was still alive… and Zevran, who I love above all else… I’ll be saving everyone I know and love, but… I’m just worried about the aftermath, how they’ll feel once the Blight’s over and I’m gone.”

Even knowing that she would be facing her own death, her thoughts were of others. Of the effect, her death will have on those she cared for…

“Have you told Zevran?” she asked.

“I can’t… I can’t face him yet, he… He already knows… I told him before the Landsmeet,” Kallian admitted, “I figured out how to end the Blight a little before we cured Arl Eamon. My plan was to never tell Alistair because I _knew_ he’d take the final blow… But I… I couldn’t even save those I cherished above all else. The knowledge of that crushed me. I thought that everything I touch is destined to fail, and I didn’t want that anymore. I was planning on never telling Zevran how I felt, I didn’t want— I didn’t want to get irreversibly attached to him, I didn’t want him to get attached to me. I— I didn’t want to find a reason to live, and I wanted him to be able to move on. But I was stupid to think that, wasn’t I? My instincts and gut are telling me Riordan’s going to fail, and now look at what I’ve done. I should have never told Zevran, that I loved him, but I was weak, I was selfish… what… what have I done? I should have known better… when he told me he loved me I was so happy. I should have known better… I should have known that I just wasn’t meant to be happy.”

She… thinks she’s not meant to have a happy life…?

Not only that, but she had known for more than half a year that to end the Blight, a Warden must be sacrificed, and she’d never planned on allowing that Warden to be Alistair. To the point where she kept it secret, playing along with their ideas of what they’d do once the Blight was over. She’d never planned on out-living the Blight. She thinks that everything she touched was destined to fail, she could only see her failures, none of her accomplishments. 

Kallian can’t die like this, she can’t die thinking that all she does is bring death and misfortune.

She won’t allow it, she won’t allow this kind generous woman to die thinking that the only thing she’s capable of is bringing people suffering and pain. That her sins were unforgivable… she remembered Redcliffe and Connor, Kallian had told Alistair that he ‘didn’t understand and she didn’t want him to, either.’. Kallian had known that killing Vaughan and essentially getting away with it would lead to a purge of the Alienage. That was why she had decided to kill Connor because no one can live with that over their heads, even she was struggling with it, and for a child to grow up like that? She knew there was no way he would ever be happy.

“There— there is a way to save you,” she admitted, “Alistair— Alistair is currently having a one-night-stand with Morrigan in ord—”

“No… I can’t—” Kallian stared at her in horror before jumping to her feet, she grabbed her hand and kept her there, “I can’t let him do that!”

“I told him to,” she replied, “I would rather he sleep with her than lose you too.”

“But I— I’m not worth that!” Kallian replied hysterically, “I can’t—”

“But you are, and I can,” she replied pulling her back down to sit next to her as tears began streaming down her own face, “so, please, don’t.”

“I’m so sorry,” Kallian whispered wrapping her arms around her, “I’m so sorry. I’m so so so sorry.”

She found comfort in Kallian’s arms until Alistair came running to find her with Zevran in tow so that they could spend the rest of the night in the arms of their lovers. In her heart, she knew that she’d made the right decision and that she would never regret having the love of her life sleep with another woman in order to save this kind, gentle, loving woman who gave hope when it couldn’t be found. 

Whatever may come from this, she was at peace with the decision she’d made.

***

He’d been about to enter Alistair and Elissa’s room to plead to him to save his Heart, but Elissa beat him to it. So, out of respect for the future queen, he kept his distance from the woman he loved. It wouldn’t be fair for him to hold her in his arms while Elissa’s love was in the arms of another.

Instead, he watched his heart cry, and while he wanted nothing more than to rush over to her, hold her tight, and wipe away her tears, it would be unfair to the Teyrna. When Elissa found her and spoke with her, he decided to wait near Alistair’s room. Once he was done, he’d bring him to the two so that they could both spend the rest of what might be the last night of their lives in the arms of their lovers.

“Alistair,” he said as the Future King left the room, “thank you.”

“You— you knew?” Alistair balked.

“Morrigan had told me,” he replied, “in case either of you needed more… convincing… As for how to end the Blight, Kallian had told me before the Landsmeet, it was, after all, the biggest reason she kept pushing me away, and it took quite a bit of convincing to convince her to let go… she sees you as a brother, and you already know how far she’d go to protect her family, yes?”

“Yeah… listen up, because I’m only going to say this once,” Alistair said, “thank you for saving her… and if you hurt her I will kill you.”

“That should be my line, really,” he replied as they reached the two women, “and I wouldn’t even dream of it.”

Alistair scooped the crying Elissa up into his arms, and tightly hugged her to him, whispering gentle apologies as he led them both away, and he picked up his fragile Heart. His gentle Heart. His loving Heart. His compassionate Heart that loved so wholly and completely and so _viscerally_ that there was nothing she wouldn’t do for those she cared for.

“Kallian,” he said drying her tears after bringing her to his room, “shhh… _mi amore_ … this is not your fault.”

“You… did— did you know about Morrigan’s ritual…?” Kallian asked with an accusatory frown.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times trying to think of what to say, but his silence was all she needed.

“…That sly woman,” Kallian huffed a laugh shaking her head, “she used you, you know?”

“Yes… I am rather aware,” he sighed, “not that I minded, exactly.”

“I can’t believe… Morrigan played matchmaker to give me a reason to live,” Kallian laughed with tears in her eyes wrapping her arms around him tightly, “am I dreaming? Is this the Fade? What strange reality have we stepped in, for _Magical Mistress Morrigan_ to meddle in our love lives?”

“When you say it like that,” he chuckled, “it does seem rather strange.”

“Ah, well, I don’t mind,” Kallian replied pressing her lips to his, “after all… I’m going to hazard a guess, and say that she’s probably the reason _you kept trying_.”

“Noooo, I was going to anyway,” he grinned, “but she did give me a good hint, _mi amore_.”

“Oh?” Kallian asked.

“But that will be my secret,” he replied beginning to tug their clothes off, “but come now _mi amore_ , even with her ritual, this may be the last night of our lives.”

“I love you,” Kallian smiled as he lowered her onto the bed.

“And I, you,” he grinned as she pulled him down to her for a kiss as he continued to undress her.

His hands ghosted across her skin, by now, he was familiar with her body. He knew how to rile her up and fill her with want and need, and it didn’t take long for him to have her gasping, moaning, and writhing beneath him. His fingers intertwined with hers as he pushed them into the sheets. Her eyes struggling to stay open as his hips continually met hers.

He would not lose her to the Blight. 

He would not lose her to the Archdemon. 

He would not lose her to herself. 

He would not lose her to the Crows. 

He would not lose her to the Taint.

The only thing he would allow to take her away from him was old age.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Tao Te Ching Chapter Sixty-Eight_


	59. How the White Tiger Overcame the Dragon

He slept with Morrigan.

 _He_ slept with _Morrigan_ with the intent to _impregnate_ her.

Just thinking about it made him sick to his stomach. 

On one hand, yes, if Riordan fell before dealing the final blow, then Kallian would be saved. But on the other? 

_He’s fathering a child with Morrigan_.

Though… he hadn’t expected how desperate Morrigan had seemed to try and save Kallian’s life. He knew that Kallian loved Morrigan like a sister, but he supposed he hadn’t expected Morrigan to love Kallian to the extent that she obviously does. He had no illusions: Morrigan hated his guts, and if there were literally any other option, she would have done that instead. But there wasn’t, and he was her only option.

And Elissa was right: if he had rejected it just because he hated Morrigan… he would have regretted it for the rest of his life. Kallian had already put her life at risk trying to save him, and she was fully willing to do so again. Could he say the same? No, because Kallian always made that split-second decision before he could. He could look back on all of those times and say that he’d have done so, yes, but Kallian had always reacted faster than he had. 

When they were being overwhelmed by the Darkspawn at the top of the Tower, he had frozen up. Meanwhile, she had fought viciously and when she couldn’t hold on any longer, she’d thrown him behind her without even thinking about it. She had always been there when he couldn’t make a decision, when he was dawdling and unsure, and she’d always reassured him that things would be okay and helped him along the way.

In that regard… he supposed having a one-night stand with the woman he hated the most out of everyone in Thedas was the least he could do.

***

_When people no longer fear force_  
 _They bring about greater force_  
 _Do not limit their place_  
 _Do not reject their livelihood_  
 _Because the ruler does not reject them_  
 _Therefore they do not reject the ruler_  
 _Therefore the sages:_  
 _Know themselves but do not glorify themselves_  
 _Respect themselves but do not praise themselves_  
 _Thus they discard that and take this._

What to wear, what to wear…

That was, once again, her current dilemma.

In the _taijitu_ the Dragon can only be matched by the White Tiger… the dragon represents divinity and control over the world, while the tiger challenges that control and brings back balance… And if she recalls correctly, the Tiger represents _yin_ which is feminine. Not only that but in Chinese folklore, tigers kill evil and protect good and are used as protection against disease and evil…

White with black embroidery it is! Annnnd black leggings.

Sorry, Sten, but she wasn’t a jaguar today. 

Today she was the White Tiger.

“You know,” Zevran commented as she began doing her make-up, “most of the soldiers are concerned with dying in the final battle… yet here you are contemplating what to wear.”

“Well… it’s better than panicking out of my mind,” she shrugged as he did her hair for her, “I can’t be anything but confident in front of the soldiers.”

“True,” Zevran replied, “still… it is rather amusing.”

“Well, I had a lot to consider… symbolism wise,” she replied, “though it only really matters to me.”

“Oh? What symbolism?”

“In the world of my past life, in myth, the Dragon could only be matched by the White Tiger… the Dragon demands control, and the White Tiger challenges that control and restores balance… fitting, no?”

“Very, considering that you are very cat-like.”

She sighed wrapping her arms around him, closing her eyes as she nuzzled her face into his neck.

She couldn’t help but remember the emotional roller-coaster that was yesterday… why did everything have to be an emotional roller-coaster? How should she go about facing Alistair and Morrigan now? Act normal? Would that be best?

Morrigan having a ritual to save her ass, in the first place, was a pretty obvious death flag… Sure, this was real life, and not a story, but quite frankly, she didn’t really want to find out if her worries were unfounded or not before it was too late. Tempting fate like that was practically begging for heartache… she’s seen enough stories to know better than to take a death flag lightly. Doing so would be like swinging a big juicy steak right in front of fate’s choppers… as someone once put it. She didn’t really remember who said that but who cares?

Honestly, the fact that they both went behind her back didn’t surprise her in the least. Zevran was raised by the Crows, and Morrigan had been raised by Flemeth… In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if they’d planned to do something she wouldn’t forgive them for doing either. They’d been raised to do everything necessary to accomplish their goals, holding them to her standard would be unfair to both, she couldn’t blame _them_ for the way _someone else_ raised them.

Of course, even _she_ had her limits, and there _were_ things that they could do that she would _absolutely_ not forgive… she was patient and understanding, yes, but she wasn’t going to be a fucking doormat. Her core values would always be the same, no matter who she was in love with, married too, friends with, whatever.

So she was grateful that they did it semi-willingly, at the very least…

She really did not want to hunt and eliminate the woman she loved like a sister and the man she loved more than anyone else. 

There were sins that she would never forgive, especially if they were done in order to preserve her life.

“Ahhh, _mi bella gattina,_ ” Zevran sighed returning her embrace, “we must be off soon, yes?”

“Unfortunately,” she sighed, “ _bella_ … is beautiful, right? So what’s _gattina?”_

“Kitten,” Zevran answered.

“Ahhh… I see,” she replied letting go of him, “fitting, I suppose, since I am younger than you.”

“Indeed,” Zevran chuckled, “are you afraid?”

“Not with you by my side,” she replied before letting him go with a sigh, “ _watashi no saiai karasu_.”

“What does that mean?”

“My beloved Crow.”

Hard to believe they were about to start marching against the Darkspawn… she packed her sleeves and pouches with as many throwing knives as she possibly could. She didn’t use bows and arrows like Leliana and sometimes Zevran, because she _didn’t understand why she was supposed to be using wood to shoot sticks of wood at things._

“Do you have enough weapons?” Alistair asked jokingly.

“I hope so,” she replied, “also, Alistair: I’m sorry, and thank you.”

“Yes, well I’ve been trying not to think of that,” Alistair replied, “but… you would have done the same for me, wouldn’t you?”

“Damn straight I woulda,” she replied.

“You owe me,” Alistair replied.

“Actually, I think we’re even,” she pointed out, “after all, you made me the _general_ of an army, and are planning to make me a _teyrna_ when I _told_ you standing out amongst Humans went against _everything_ I was taught.”

“And _you_ made me king,” Alistair argued.

“You made yourself king,” she argued back, “and sorry, but I’m not conceited enough to take credit for your accomplishments.”

“We’re about to march off to fight the Archdemon,” Wynne sighed in exasperation, “and you two are _bickering?”_

“What else would we do?” she asked, “worrying about a battlefield hours away from us would be unproductive.”

“Kallian,” Morrigan called out to her gesturing her to follow her away from the others, “you are aware then? Of what happened last night?”

“I am,” she nodded, “Morrigan, I— thank you.”

“There is one more thing: once this Blight is over,” Morrigan said and she could tell that she was struggling, “I… will be leaving, and you, will not be seeing me again.”

“I— wha—” she started.

“It’s time,” Eamon declared interrupting her, “let us be off… and Maker watch over us.”

Morrigan… must have her reasons, she knew. It still saddened her that this might be the last she saw of her, the woman had done something she hated for her sake. How could she ever repay her? And Alistair? Well, for Alistair curing the Taint would go a long way, as will helping him govern Ferelden…

Morrigan has been with her practically since the beginning, and she’s long since started to see the woman as a sister… the thought of never seeing her again made her feel lonely already.

She’s saved her life, _twice_ now… but how can she repay a woman she’ll likely never see again? 

She could hear soldiers murmuring, wondering if she were taking this seriously since she wasn’t wearing armor. Wondering if they should really trust her because she was an Elf. She knew it was pre-battle jitters, they were marching to fight the mother-fucking Archdemon and its horde of Darkspawn for crying out loud. They didn’t know what she was capable of, they haven’t been traveling with them for the past almost year. All they knew about her, was that she played a pivotal role in taking down both Anora and Loghain. Honestly, she’d just have to let her skills and abilities speak for themselves. 

She knew what she was capable of, it was just a matter of making sure they did.

Thinking about it, she was kind of peeved that the Archdemon countered her. Killed their messenger, attacked Denerim before the scheduled evacuation… they were basically playing catch up. Ah, well, what’s already happened has happened, there’s not much she can do about it now.

How was she supposed to act as the general of an army? Was she allowed to make small talk? Hum? Sing? Because this march was _boring_ … who knew a march to certain doom would be boring? She’d never really been the marathon type. They probably wouldn’t take too kindly to her hanging onto Zevran…

Speaking of being the leader of an army, she was going to have to fight alongside LOTS of Humans, Dwarves, and Elves… Dear gods, she hoped she didn’t kill any allies. Especially considering that Darkspawn were anatomically similar to Humans and Dwarves in particular. Shrieks? Not so much. Ogres? They didn’t have that many Qunari… Tal-Vashoth… whatever Sten called them.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh… why didn’t she consider this beforehand?

She was also incredibly worried. Her family and friends were still in Denerim, and they were behind the horde, meaning the horde would get there first meaning that there was a chance they could all be dead by the time they got there. But she was trying to shove that worry into the abyss.

This boredom was not helping.

Zevran was discreetly trying to get her attention, and she turned to look where he was gesturing to…

A soldier was marching with a shovel strapped to his back… which made her begin internally squealing with glee.

“You always know how to make me smile,” she hummed quietly.

“Well, naturally,” Zevran chuckled, “it would set a rather poor precedent for our future if I did not, yes?”

“True,” she replied happily.

“Kalli! Fergus, this is Kallian, our strategical and tactical genius, and currently the general of our army,” Elissa said excitedly approaching her while bringing someone in tow, “and Kalli this is my brother, Fergus… I no longer need you to become three different people.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Fergus said with a slight bow, “I’ve heard a lot about you from both Elissa and… I suppose my soon-to-be brother-in-law?”

“Hello, a pleasure to meet you, too,” she replied, “and I’m sorry, you needed me to do what now?”

“Gwaren needs a new Teyrn, and so would Highever,” Elissa explained, “so I needed you to become three people so you could become the Teyrna of Highever and Gwaren.”

“You know,” she sighed, “people are going to think I’m an ambitious power-hungry beast with you talking like that.”

“You’re the least ambitious person I know,” Elissa replied loudly, “in any case, now that Fergus is here, he’ll be able to take over our teyrnir.”

“Oh? Is that all I am to you?” Fergus asked teasingly, “a replacement for someone else?”

“You know what I mean,” Elissa replied.

“Wait… Gwaren and Highever count for two,” she replied, “what did you need a third me for?”

“Handmaiden,” Elissa answered.

“I’d rather be a handmaiden than a Teyrna,” she sighed.

“That’s what Arl Eamon said as well,” Elissa commented.

“So how are you feeling about this final battle?” Fergus asked and she could sense a large number of people now listening in intently.

“Defeat is an impossibility,” she answered, “I knew they would march on Denerim sooner or later, hence why we had scheduled an evacuation… they got there sooner than I would have liked, but there’s nothing we can do about it… however, they’ve basically cornered themselves. I wanted to fight the Archdemon in a city anyway, since it’s better for us, strategically and tactically. Once we get to the city, it’s just a matter of bottle-necking the entrance in order to gain control of the flow of battle, cleaning up the Darkspawn inside the city, and then going dragon hunting.”

“Are you sure you’re not oversimplifying this?” Fergus asked incredulously.

“Are you sure you’re not over-complicating it?” she asked in return, “what I just said is a _strategy_ , I’ll need to know what the actual situation is before I make any tactical decisions. Strategy is making a plan, tactics are ensuring that plan succeeds.”

“Well… now I know why you were appointed as the leader of the army,” Fergus replied, “since you seem to know what you’re doing.”

She somehow managed to not let out a snort of laughter.

Jokes on everyone, including her: she still had no fucking clue what she’s doing.

“She’s the reason why we were able to defend Redcliffe without sustaining a single casualty on the worse night there,” Elissa nodded, “if she hadn’t come up with the strategy that she did…”

She noticed some of the tension in the soldier’s ease, which was good, since the tenser they were, the faster they’d tire themselves out. Worrying about a battlefield before they got to it was a waste of energy. All they could do at the moment was trust in their allies to do their best defending Denerim.

“I see…” Fergus replied.

“And, I know it’s late,” she said, “but you have my sincerest condolences for the atrocities that had been visited upon your family.”

“Yes… thank you for making sure that snake Howe suffered for it,” Fergus replied practically spitting the name out, “and you have my condolences for what happened to your fiance and your family.”

“Thank you…” she replied sadly, “he did not deserve to have died the way he did.”

“If he were still here,” Alistair asked, “would you choose him, or Zevran?”

“The me than I am here and now?” she asked in return, “Zevran, definitely… if I had never met Vaughan? Nelaros… I was a different person back then, I still had my naive innocence. I expected to live a different life.”

“And I would have found a way to steal you away,” Zevran replied, “figuratively speaking… though perhaps also literally.”

“And how, do you presume, you would have met her?” Wynne asked.

“Well, one should never underestimate the power of fate,” Zevran replied with a grin.

Diana barked in agreement.

“Oh, you agree?” Zevran asked.

“Of course she would,” she replied, “Diana is my fated companion, after all.”

“Ah… right,” Zevran replied with a sigh.

“Well, fate does things whether we like it too or not, so perhaps you’re right,” she replied, “plus… you never get to choose who you fall in love with.”

“Marching to fight the sodding Archdemon and you two are sodding flirting,” Oghren grumbled.

“And _you_ are drinking,” Wynne pointed out.

“When _isn’t_ it drinking?” Shayle asked, “and when are they _not_ flirting?”

Her thoughts went back to Morrigan, who was a bit aways from her… she could tell…

She could tell, that Morrigan didn’t want to leave… but she felt the need to all the same.

Asking her about it, pushing her for answers would just hurt her… all she could do was respect her decision, and remind her that she always had a place to come back too if she needed it.

***

_Watashi no saiai karasu_

Her beloved Crow.

That was what she had called him… 

He liked the sound of that.

He also noticed that she seemed to be rather adept at rolling her ‘r’s, something he hadn’t expected, considering that she had never given even the slightest hint of it in normal conversation… meanwhile, he definitely had an Antivan accent and always had at least a small roll of his ‘r’s. Though, in this life, she had grown up speaking Common, with a Ferelden accent, of course… He should ask her to teach him that language, Japanese… She’d said she was fluent in three languages, what were the other two languages she was fluent in?

He’d almost forgotten that they were marching to battle the Darkspawn horde. His Heart always had a way with distracting people from their worries.

Of course, earlier in their march, she had looked bored out of her mind, and not only that, but he could sense that she was beginning to worry about things unnecessarily… Honestly, he was glad that there was a soldier wielding a shovel marching with them, otherwise, he hadn’t been sure how to distract her.

There were likely ‘scum’ marching alongside them, but they couldn’t do anything about them since they were going towards the Darkspawn horde… not only that but she was the one who was leading this army. 

Ahh… she would likely not be able to hunt scum down anymore, which was a shame since that was one of her favorite past-times.

No matter what they were doing, or where they were going, his thoughts always seemed to go back to her.

Something he didn’t mind in the least.

Thinking about it, he hasn’t heard her compose those small poems in a long time… he wondered why. She had thought they were terrible, but he had enjoyed them. Perhaps he should get her a book on Antivan poetry, not terrible erotic Antivan poetry… well, maybe terrible erotic Antivan poetry. Since she had also thought the poem amusing, and perhaps he could find one to seduce her with… She had mentioned that it might work, as long as the poem were good.

He remembered her triumphant gaze as he covered her mouth, which in turn made him remember the number of times he had pleasured himself to thoughts of her, of how it felt to have her trapped beneath him in the Fade… and the actual feeling of having her writhing beneath him…

Oh… he might be in trouble… 

Long marches with a group of people terrified of what the next hour would bring suited him about as well as it suited his Heart.

Which was not at all.

“Zevran,” Kallian said quietly, “if you lose focus, and the Darkspawn get to me, they will _not_ hesitate to kill me.”

Ah, she noticed his… dilemma, for lack of better words.

“Or,” Kallian added and her next words helped him greatly, “they could capture me and turn me into a Broodmother.”

“And I will never let that happen,” he replied sternly, “just as I am yours, _you_ are _mine_.”

“And let’s make sure it stays that way, hm?” Kallian replied with a wry smile, “I’m beginning to feel like our sense of danger is severely lacking.”

“ _Mi amore_ ,” he chuckled, “I believe that that was an already established fact, yes? One does not do what we do with much care for danger.”

“True… vigilantes and assassins don’t care about whether they’re in danger or not… it’s just part of the hunt.”

“Who knew that vigilantes and assassins would have so much in common?”

“Most people get apprehensive before a large battle,” Alistair commented, “but Kalli and Zevran just intensify their flirting.”

“When has that not been their response to danger?” Wynne asked with a sigh.

“Good point,” Alistair sighed.

***

She could not help but remember when she had met Kallian for the first time… following the group as they wandered through the wilderness.

A strong and stubborn Elven woman who bowed to no man, be they Human, Qunari, or Dwarf… wild, playful, free… in many ways, she was very similar to Flemeth, yes, but she was also sincere in her kindness. Unlike Flemeth, she had no ulterior motives, she helped people without expecting anything in return… ‘twas something she had never witnessed before.

Kallian was like a bonfire on a dark and dreary night: she drew everyone to her promising warmth and protection, not caring who they were or where they came from.

She remembered all the times where Kallian had instinctively moved to lessen any amount of discomfort she may have felt from others. How she’d sincerely listened to her when she told her her worries about Flemeth and acted to make sure that she would feel safe again.

She could have never expected to find a sister in those Wilds, and in a way, one given to her by Flemeth herself…

***

The skies over Denerim were dark and filled with smoke and she could see the Archdemon flying overhead.

Ah, pep-talk time.

“Before us stands the might of the Darkspawn horde! Gaze upon them, but fear them not!” Alistair declared as he gestured her up to stand next to him, “the woman you see beside me is an Elf, raised to the ranks of the Grey Wardens! And never a more glorious Grey Warden has there been! She has survived despite the odds, and without her, none of us would be here!”

Alistair was looking at her as if asking if she wanted to say anything.

God mother fucking damn it.

“The world has gone dark… the skies of Denerim covered in smoke… the Archdemon flies overhead, a harbinger of our doom, friends, and family lay dead on long ago fields of battle, and it feels like all is lost,” she said looking towards Denerim, “H-O-W-E-V-E-R! Three things will always hold true. One: the darkest period of the night always comes just before dawn. Two: the Sun will ALWAYS rise. And three: Hope will NEVER die. They think they can kill hope? Let’s prove them wrong. Remember those you’ve lost to the Darkspawn and AVENGE them! Remember those you love, and PROTECT them! We fight for those we love, for the land we live in, for the sake of a better tomorrow, and as long as we remember that, we CANNOT lose!”

“Today, we save Denerim! Today, we avenge the death of my brother, King Cailan!” Alistair continued, “but most of all, today we show the Grey Wardens that we remember and honor their sacrifice! For Ferelden! For the Grey Wardens!”

The army surged forward towards the city.

She saw a few more soldiers wielding shovels charging right along with them and wondered if she could make an order of Shovel Knights…

…Her approach to danger had never been what one would consider ‘normal’.

***

The armor-less Kallian pushed forward without fear, despite having a slight disadvantage against the Darkspawn… he’d always been in awe of her sheer amount of skill. He remembered meeting her back in Ostagar, and how it didn’t make sense to him that she never wore armor. But she always seemed to have a way of turning her weaknesses into advantages.

Riordan was waiting for them, but Kallian swiftly pulled him to the side once the last of the Darkspawn before them fell.

“Ali-butt… I dunno what’s gonna happen to me after I kill the thing,” Kallian said before shoving a note into his chest, “so if, for whatever reason, I’m not up and running right after… this is my shopping list. Get it done.”

“Uhhh…” he looked down at the paper as she patted him on the shoulder, her list included blood samples from five different Hurlocks, five different Genlocks, five different Shrieks, five different Ogres, and a barrel of Archdemon blood, “…what? What do you need all of this blood for?”

“To research a cure for the Taint,” Kallian replied patting him on the shoulder again with a large smile, “get it done. Make sure they’re labeled.”

“You… think you might actually be able to find a cure for the Taint?” he asked in shock.

“I cheat, remember?” Kallian grinned as Diana barked in agreement.

Right, she had other world knowledge at her disposal.

“You’ve managed to fight your way to the gates,” Riordan said greeting them, “we’re doing better than I hoped.”

“Surprising, isn’t it?” Shayle asked with a hint of amusement in their voice.

“That will change quickly,” Sten commented.

“Bloody nug runners!” Oghren grumbled, “we’re outnumbered three to one!”

“Could be worse,” Kallian shrugged, “considering we just ended a civil war… how considerate of the Darkspawn to wait until that was settled… if they had attacked us back then, they would have just wiped the floor with us. Like what happened to the Dwarves way back during the First Blight.”

How does she— Right… Kallian researched the Blights and was able to deduce how to end a Blight from that… Of course, she would have retained knowledge from that, it was relevant to her life.

“Figure’s Orzammar’s politics would end up costing them their own sodding empire,” Oghren grumbled.

“What are we to do now, Riordan?” Wynne asked, “you have a plan, I assume?”

Were Kallian’s plans not good enough for her? Or was it because Riordan was older?

“The army will not last long, so we’ll need to move quickly to reach the Archdemon,” Riordan answered, “I suggest taking Alistair and no more than two others with you into the city. Anyone you don’t bring with you can remain here to prevent more Darkspawn from entering Denerim on our tails.”

“Any other suggestions?” Kallian asked.

“We’re going to need to reach a high point in the city,” Riordan replied, “I’m thinking the top of Fort Drakon might work.”

“The tallest building in Denerim is actually the Royal Palace,” Kallian closed her eyes in thought, “though the lay of the land on top of that isn’t ideal for fighting an angry dragon, so Fort Drakon would be best, yes.”

“Right… you’d already surmised that Denerim would be the best place to confront the Archdemon,” he sighed.

“Yes… we have little choice, though I warn you that as soon as we engage the beast it will call all its generals to help it,” Riordan nodded, “I can sense two generals in Denerim. You may wish to seek them out before going to Fort Drakon.”

“I’m sure that if we did slay those generals,” Leliana replied, “it would stop the Darkspawn in the city from doing a lot of harm!”

“It may also waste resources trying to find them,” Riordan added, “the decision is up to you.”

“Do you know where these generals are?” he asked.

“Neither of them are near Fort Drakon currently, but there are too many Darkspawn here to tell you more,” Riordan answered, “there are already several units of our allies within the city by now. They may be able to come to your assistance if you call them, but their strength will be limited… Now choose who you will take into the city.”

“I’ll stay at the gate to lead our forces from here since no one knows Denerim as you do,” he replied firmly interrupting anything Kallian might even begin to say, “though I’d rather be charging the Archdemon down with you… you’ve been preparing me for this moment.”

“And you are not leaving me behind, _mi amore,_ ” Zevran added.

“And if Zevran’s going then so am I,” Leliana nodded, “we can’t be a Trio of Tricksters unless there’s three of us.”

“I will be going as well,” Morrigan declared, “I want to be there to ensure…”

That the ritual succeeded, is what he guessed she was implying.

Morrigan really did love her… he didn’t think that she was capable of loving anyone other than herself. But she had proved him wrong by loving Kallian so much that she would apparently do anything in order to save her.

***

She was proud of Alistair’s growth as a leader. He’s come a long, long, long way from the person who she’d first met… the one always looking to others for what to do and doing it without question.

Oh, dear, she might start crying.

Which would not be good, she’s leading an army. Tears would be bad for morale, they may think she’s crying over how scared she is when really, she’s crying because she feels like a proud Mother. Honestly, she was proud of how far _everyone_ has come. Everyone coming to terms with their past and present… Emotional and psychological wounds cannot heal unless you allow them too, somehow, she’d managed to forget that important fact.

Then again, she seemed to be really _really_ adept at forgetting important bits of information… like how Jowan was a blood mage.

How was she so observant and absentminded at the same time?

Then again, she shouldn’t be surprised, since she tends to forget the entire contents of a novel after reading it. Since she had already gotten her entertainment from it and it no longer pertained to her life, it got thrown into the amorphous blob of discarded information.

On one hand? Saves her a lot of coin. On the other? She’s pretty sure she’s read one of them at least five times so far and still forgets everything that happens in it…

“Fair enough,” Riordan nodded, “then that should be sufficient… nothing you have done has prepared you for what you face now. May the Maker watch over you.”

“May He watch over us all,” she replied.

Was she a monster strong enough to topple an Archdemon? 

Yes, yes she was.

Or at least she damn well better be considering that she was wearing the colors of the White Tiger… if she couldn’t stand equal to the Dragon, then she’d be disappointed in herself.

“So this is it then,” Wynne commented, “all that we’ve been through has led up to this…”

“Indeed,” she agreed, “it’s been a long and crazy road.”

“Yes… whatever happens now,” Wynne replied with a soft smile, “know that I am proud —infinitely proud— to have called you friend.”

“I feel the same,” she replied returning her smile.

“Farewell,” Wynne replied, “and may the Maker watch over you.”

“May He watch over you as well,” she replied.

She didn’t need the Maker to watch over her: she had Morrigan.

“So this is it,” Oghren said replacing Wynne.

“It’s been an honor to fight alongside you, Oghren,” she grinned.

“Honor? Nobody’s looked at me and seen honor in a long time, Kallian,” Oghren replied, “you took in a drunken disgrace of an Orzammar warrior. You gave me a reason to fight and the will to keep going… you helped me find the one woman in the sodding world who might put up with me, and you helped me get past Branka so I could have someone new… I owe you a lot, Kallian. I consider it a fine honor to die for you and your cause.”

“The honor is all mine, Oghren,” she replied.

“Then it’s sodding honor for everyone! That’s war for you,” Oghren replied, “let the stone turn red from the blood of heroes… today, I will be the warrior you taught me to be.”

“Nonsense, I just reminded you of the warrior that you already were,” she replied wryly causing Oghren to laugh as he walked away.

“So the Archdemon is next, is it?” Shayle asked taking Oghren’s place, “part of me is glad that it has decided to leave me here at the gate, but the other part is… apprehensive? I would almost say that I feel concern for something other than myself, even maybe for a soft, squishy companion… but that would be silly, wouldn’t it?”

“It would be downright _scandalous!_ ” she gasped feigning shock.

“I know! Please do not tell anyone… I doubt I could blush, but it would be so awkward,” Shayle replied, “and… do try not to get swallowed whole. If the beast were to fly about afterwards and poop it out, irony would dictate that it would land on me… I couldn’t take it.”

“Aye-aye, I will be sure to be swallowed in very little pieces, then,” she replied with a salute causing Shayle to scoff.

“Well, then… I suppose this is it?” Shayle asked, “have fun storming the castle.”

Wow… this was really beginning to feel like a final battle in a game… which would mean that she’s seriously deep in death flag territory.

“Are you ready?” Sten asked, “we have reached the battlefield at last.”

“Looks like it,” she replied.

“The _Arishok_ asked ‘what is the Blight?’ I stand here looking into its eyes,” Sten replied, “and still, I have no answer for him. But perhaps you do.”

“I have answers for a lot of things,” she replied wryly, “thank you for all your help, Sten.”

“I have done nothing, _kadan_ ,” Sten replied, “you have carried us this far… do not doubt that.”

“So, this is it… this is the end…” Leliana said, “we’ve come so far… it’s strange knowing that all our fates will be decided in a matter of hours… we stand on the precipice, before the greatest battle of our age… I wonder if the heroes of old ever felt like this…”

“I don’t doubt it,” she replied wryly, “I know how fast things can change.”

“I am not afraid,” Leliana nodded, “we go to fight for a good cause and there is nowhere else I would rather be.”

“I could think of a few places I’d rather be,” she commented causing Leliana to laugh.

“Yes… you are a dear, dear friend, and I will stand with you, to whatever end,” Leliana smiled, “this day, we will forge a legend of our own.”

“Someone once said… through action, a man becomes a hero. Through death, a hero becomes a legend. Through time, a legend becomes a myth,” she recounted, “and by learning from the myth, a man takes action.”

Eiichiro Oda said it… though he took inspiration from Joseph Campbell…

“Then I hope that you will become a legend without dying,” Leliana replied.

“I’d rather not become a legend in the first place,” she replied as Leliana was replaced by Morrigan.

“So we head into the city together… as it should be,” Morrigan remarked, “once this is done, no matter how it turns out, I will be gone… you are aware of this, yes?”

“Then let me thank you now, for what you’ve done,” she replied wrapping her arms around her.

She didn’t hug Morrigan often, she knew how she felt about physical touch, but… right now, she needed to.

“You… are most welcome… it is, I think, the very least I could offer you,” Morrigan replied returning her hug, she could hear her voice wavering, “allow me to say only one thing before we go: I knew nothing of friendship before we met… and I will always consider you such… Live well, my friend. Live gloriously.”

“Morrigan, I love you, and remember this: should you ever need, you will always have a place to return too,” she replied letting go of her to give her a soft smile, “no matter what, I’ll always be here for you.”

“Thank you… Kallian,” Morrigan replied, “now let us see this finally done: the Archdemon awaits.”

“I suppose we’ll do our best out here,” Alistair said as he and Elissa took Morrigan’s place.

“You’d better,” she replied sternly.

“Be careful in there, will you?” Alistair replied, “you said you’d help me be king, and I’m not letting you off if you go dying or something.”

“ _We_ are not letting you off if you go dying,” Elissa corrected, “I need at least one of you since you obviously can’t become two people.”

“And don’t even think about _trying_ to get yourself killed so that you can avoid all of that,” Alistair added, “if I can’t then neither can you.”

“Aye-Aye, Captain,” she replied giving a salute, “I shall endeavor to not die.”

“And just remember: that ritual isn’t going to help you if you get your head squashed first,” Alistair replied.

“When have I ever lost a fight?” she asked.

“The Gauntlet,” Alistair answered.

“Yes, but I lost against myself,” she replied, “so technically, I still won.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alistair sighed, “now go kick its ass, sis.”

“I will do more than that,” she replied with another salute, “because I am an overachiever.”

Zevran was now standing in front of her.

“So, we head into the city to face the Archdemon together, do we?” Zevran grinned at her, “just as it should be.”

“I’m fairly certain you didn’t give me a chance to say ‘no’,” she replied wryly.

“If this should be the last we speak— and I know it won’t,” Zevran replied pulling her into an embrace, “I want you to know: assassinating you was the luckiest thing that could have happened to me.”

“It was the luckiest thing that could have happened to me too,” she replied wrapping her arms around him, “but will you still say that when we reach the Archdemon?”

“I would say it at the gates of the Dark City itself,” Zevran replied capturing her lips in a kiss that she happily returned, “never doubt that.”

“I love you,” she replied.

“And I love you, as well,” Zevran replied finally releasing her from his hold.

She loved hearing him tell her he loved her… though he practically did so every time he called her _mi amore_. She knew what that translated to even without him telling her, but it was still nice to hear him say it in Common. For her, telling people she loved them was second nature because she always wanted the people she cared for know that they were loved. But for him? He was taught it was a weakness, that it was reckless and dangerous… so the fact that he made the effort to made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“’Twould seem the entire city is overrun,” Morrigan commented, “less chance of bystanders, then.”

“It looks like most of the townspeople escaped before the horde arrived,” Leliana replied, “that’s a relief.”

“Could the city even recover from an onslaught such as this?” Zevran asked.

“Antiva City did,” she recounted, “as did Starkhaven… that Grey Warden fortress… whatchamacallit…”

“Weisshaupt?” Leliana offered.

“Yeah! That’s the one,” she nodded, “people are hardier than you’d think.”

***

They headed into the city, and she decided that she would savor the last battle she would ever fight alongside the woman she had come to, she supposed, love. As ridiculous as she had once thought the emotion, she could see the strength behind it… the power that came from it.

Their Dwarven allies were already locked in battle in the Marketplace, where one of the generals were, and so they quickly joined the fray. 

Even she had known that Kallian’s fighting prowess bordered on the obscene, but she hadn’t expected it to be _this_ obscene.

She wasn’t just a _force_ of nature: she was the very _embodiment_ of nature itself.

_“Because nature has taught me important lessons: Grounded as the Earth. Passionate as the Fire. Flexible as the Water. Free as the Wind.”_

She struck with the force of a landslide, attacked with the ferocity of a raging inferno, flowed from one enemy into the next with the rage of a tumultuous river, and rampaged her way across the battlefield with the speed of a howling wind… 

_“To kill a villain, you use a hero, but the only true difference between a hero and a villain is, honestly, just who wins… in the end, both are monsters of the same caliber.”_

Such should be expected of the woman who needed to become a force monstrous enough to challenge a god. And she would have to do far more than challenge a god… 

She would have to kill it.

***

She wondered why Kallian had decided to wear white to the battlefield…

It looked good on her, sure, but it was white.

Though they were fighting their way towards the Alienage, and not a speck of blood that had gotten on her shirt was red… all of it was black. Though, Kallian was also an incredibly efficient killer, so even _that_ blood was minimal. Though, perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised, considering that Zevran also sported very little blood…

Assassin’s also made for efficient killers.

Though, Kallian’s lack of blood seemed to bolster the Dalish that were fighting alongside them… it seemed as though every Darkspawn she killed reinforced their belief that she was Mythal returned to them from the Beyond… Of course, she couldn’t blame them, Kallian had said it herself: that to kill a monster, you use a monster who was either of equal strength or stronger.

An Archdemon was an Old God that had been corrupted by the Darkspawn Taint… If Riordan failed, then Kallian would have to be the Archdemon’s equal, she would have to be a force strong enough to eclipse a god.

Perhaps that was why she wore white: the Darkspawn were darkness, and she was the light that would overcome them.

***

Oh, Maker preserve them…

Where the FUCK was Kallian?!

The Darkspawn were going to get through the gates any second now!

Apparently, all she needed to do was complain, because Kallian showed up with a group of Dalish hunters in tow.

“It’s about time you showed up, the Alienage is under attack,” she said, “there is a large group of Darkspawn approaching and the gates won’t hold! We need help!”

“Well, I’m sorry that I hauled my ass all the way to Redcliffe only to be told I needed to haul my ass all the way back here,” Kallian retorted, “in any case: get to safety. We’ll handle things from here.”

“No! This is my home as much as it is yours!” she replied firmly, “if you’re going to fight, then I will too!”

“We’re with you!” Sam nodded.

“Tell us what to do,” she replied, “and we’ll fight for as long as we can.”

“Stay back and defend your homes,” Kallian ordered, “pick off whatever gets through our line.”

“You heard what the lady said!” she said addressing the others, “come on!”

Kallian knew that none of them were adept at melee combat and that they would be safer in the back.

The Darkspawn broke through the gate, but Kallian was a devastating whirlwind of deadly blows and thrown knives… she couldn’t help but remember her words to her when she first left the Alienage:

_“When the world was at its worst, there you came— fire in your eyes, like something out of a storybook… I’ll never forget that.”_

No matter what she said: Kallian was always meant to be a hero.

“We did it!” she cheered once the last of the Darkspawn were vanquished, “you’ve come through for us again… we’ll never forget this.”

“Nyaaa,” Kallian replied, “a cat has to protect her territory, nyaa?”

“Make sure you come home again,” she replied, “or I will hunt you down and kill you.”

“Aye-aye I shall endeavor to come home,” Kallian replied with a salute.

“You’d fucking better,” she replied.

“I live to serve,” Kallian replied with a bow now, “now, I gotta go dragon hunting. So be safe, mya.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” she huffed, “good luck cousin… and Maker watch over you.”

As Kallian, Zevran, Leliana, Morrigan, and Diana left, she could hear the Dalish Elves commenting that Kallian was Mythal returned from the Beyond…

Something even she was inclined to believe.

***

She wondered how everyone was doing inside the city as they defended the gates with the mages.

She hoped they were doing okay, at the gates, they were defending against an incoming swarm, but inside the city? That’s where the Archdemon was…

Well, their absolute trump card was there, so she highly doubted things were going poorly… 

Kallian always had a way of making the impossible, possible. It was just a thing she did… even her birth into this life was something that seemed like it should have been impossible. Her soul traveled here from another world due to a cosmic mix-up? How does that even happen? Though, Kallian didn’t seem to know either.

“Beware! A large group of Darkspawn have broken away from the battle!” a Soldier shouted, “they’re charging this way! They’ll be here any minute!”

“Calm down, man,” Alistair replied calmly, keeping his voice level, “we’ll handle it, just as we always have.”

Well… now she completely understood why Zevran had such a hard time keeping his hands off of Kallian.

Seeing the man she loved completely confident and in his element was incredibly sexy. Neither of them would ever be as bad as the two of them, of course, since they apparently have a tendency to treat danger as foreplay… She and Alistair were definitely not the type to flirt in the face of danger, and they never would be…

They had a better grasp of propriety… Kallian’s sense of propriety was also one of the best she’s seen, but there were times where she got caught up in Zevran’s _severe_ lack of it… Though, it was honestly part of her personality: both she and Zevran were a bit more chaotic than orderly. Both of them grew up knowing that the uncertainties of life could change everything in the span of a few hours. Kallian bore witness to more riots than she ever wanted to imagine, and Zevran was raised under hellish conditions and she didn’t want to imagine that, either.

Perhaps that’s why they understood each other so well.

“They’re here!” the Soldier shouted and they prepared to fight.

***

Riordan managed to wound the Archdemon, but it knocked him off of its back… she guessed the White Tiger would have to topple the Dragon after all.

Thank the sweet merciful heaven’s above that Morrigan had a ritual to save her. The White Tiger and the Dragon were equal in strength, and basically, they just canceled each other out. 

Which is what would have happened to her, if not for Morrigan.

She still wasn’t afraid of dying, but she _was_ afraid of leaving Zevran behind.

He was a lot more fragile than he let on… or probably even thought. He’d lived thinking getting attached to anything and anyone was dangerous and wrong… so when he actually did allow himself to get attached to someone, it hurt him all the more. In fact, if he hadn’t been in on Morrigan’s ritual, she wouldn’t have been surprised if he knocked her out and carried her across borders in a refusal to lose anyone else he cared about.

Of course, she’d absolutely never forgive him for it, but she wouldn’t be surprised.

Their Human allies were fighting in the Palace District, and they joined the fray… honestly, she was a little relieved that the Humans stayed out of the Alienage. She knew it probably wouldn’t’ve happened, but sometimes sick fucks use chaos to kill groups of people they discriminate against. Dwarves would have been fine, but it made sense that the Dalish would be more interested in saving those who shared their race. Though, she hasn’t seen the mages yet, though they’re probably at the gate… they arrived at the same time their group did. The Humans have been fighting since the Darkspawn got here, and the Dwarves had managed to push their way into the Marketplace…

The Dalish were the group second furthest into the city, likely because she had them stationed near Denerim.

She may have gotten outmaneuvered by the Archdemon, but it could have been _much_ worse… especially considering that researching the previous Blights was a _choice_ she had made because she wasn’t satisfied with the information that she had available to her at the time.

She noticed Riordan’s corpse on their way into Fort Drakon… she will sing a song for him in some desolate location. She will sing a song for all those who have been lost today in some desolate location… because _Aloha ‘Oe_ was not a song in a language known to Thedas.

Shadow step and disconnect the spine at the base of the skull, flow to the next and decapitate, evade and counter… carry the body and throw a knife at archer.

Oh dear… she was running out of throwing knives…

Wait… what the fuck? Was that Sandal?

***

Throughout their travels, he’d always thought the way she fought, and moved was beautiful.

But that was nothing compared to what she was now.

Of course, she had once considered herself a disappointing lump of coal: the her that he’d known before was nothing compared to the scorching inferno that she was truly meant to be. Her inner fire turned into a guiding light, leading the way through the darkness, and even he could tell that even merely glimpsing her on the battlefield was enough to grant their allies strength and courage. 

She moved as if she were death personified, death given physical form in the shape of her body, her movements held far more grace, elegance, and refinement than before. This wasn’t a battle: this was a macabre performance, a beautiful massacre. He remembered when he’d called her a sexy death goddess, and truly she was one. It was no wonder that the Dalish compared her to Mythal, their goddess of protection because that was what she was: a protector.

She was the Archdemon's direct opposite in every single way possible. When she killed, it was swift, almost gentle, making sure to end it in one hit, when the Blight killed, it left behind terrorized expressions and screams of agony. Had it not been for Morrigan, it would have made perfect sense that these two aspects of death would be forced to cancel each other out. What better way was there to destroy a force of cruelty, despair, and hatred, than by using a force of compassion, hope, and love?

When they finally reached the Archdemon, it was as if he were watching two beings who had become avatars of death clash against each other, bringing along their own followers as they waged war against the other. His Heart representing the calm tranquility that death could bring, and the Archdemon representing the fear and anger death brought. They were fighting for dominance, neither afraid of the other, Kallian, _his_ Kallian, would grant even this evil monstrosity a graceful death.

He remembered what she had told him, the reason she wore white to this battlefield: only the White Tiger could match the Dragon’s strength. That the Dragon demanded control, and the White Tiger challenged that control and restored balance…

He watched as she entered the sky to slam a borrowed sword into the skull of the Archdemon. 

With her symbolism in mind, it became a vision of the White Tiger snapping her jaws around the Dragon’s skull before they were both engulfed in a blinding light.

***

There was an explosion of light from the top of Fort Drakon, and the Darkspawn ranks broke as they began to flee.

“We did it…” Someone said, and then a chorus of cheers echoed throughout the battlefield, “WE DID IT!”

“Actually, Kalli did it,” he muttered.

“Let them have this,” Elissa laughed wrapping her arms around him, “but I agree… it was, basically, all Kalli.”

“HAH!” Oghren cheered, “that crazy woman did it!”

“Of course it did,” Shayle scoffed, “it has never been either stopped or defeated before.”

“That’s… true,” Wynne replied, “still… her foe was an Archdemon… I can only hope that she still lives.”

“It would be a miracle if she does,” Sten replied.

Right… the method of killing an Archdemon was one of the Grey Warden’s top secrets…

“She better be prepared for politics,” he grumbled.

“At least let her get her bearings first,” Elissa chuckled, “she did overwork herself trying to end the Blight, after all.”

***

He felt his heart drop, Kallian, where was his treasure? His Heart? His Kallian?

He’d lost sight of her when the light had dissipated.

His eyes landed on the downed figure of his Heart a small bit away from him and he ran to her side.

She wasn’t waking up.

She was still breathing, and her body was warm but she wasn’t waking up.

Why wasn’t she waking up?!

He held her tightly, normally holding her in his arms had filled him with a sense of peace, comfort, and warmth. But now? Now he was afraid, what would he do if she never woke up? If he never felt her warmth again? Her hands caress his face? Never see her smile? Her emerald eyes sparkling with life? Hear her voice? Her laugh? 

He held her close to his chest and turned a glare at Morrigan.

“She’ll need time,” Morrigan stated, “she’s just killed an Old God… give her time.”

“If she doesn’t wake up…” he snarled.

“I promise you: she will,” Morrigan replied before turning into a bird and flying away.

***

She was alive… Kallian was alive…

Even though she’ll likely never see her again… just knowing that she still lived would be enough to warm her heart.

She had saved the one woman she had come to love and care for.

_“Morrigan, I love you, and remember this: should you ever need, you will always have a place to return too. No matter what, I’ll always be here for you.”_

She burned those words into her heart… an ember from the fire that had kept her warm throughout the Blight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Tao Te Ching Chapter Seventy-Two_


	60. How the Cat Slumbered After the Blight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't decide how I wanted to end this.

It’s been a day since the fall of the Archdemon. 

Zevran, to the surprise of absolutely no one, refused to leave Kallian’s side, and despite his own fatigue he had carried her down from Fort Drakon, and to the Royal Palace himself. According to all eye-witnesses, Arl Eamon, and First Enchanter Irving included, two gods of death had descended upon Denerim that day, deciding to use the city as the stage for their final confrontation.

“Well, now that the Blights over,” he asked, “and while Kallian’s out of commission… can we… talk about the Blight for a moment?”

“What about it?” Sten asked, “it was ended.”

“How Kallian made ending the Blight seem almost _trivial,”_ he replied bluntly, “I told her that no Grey Warden had ever defeated a Blight without an army of a half-dozen nations at his back. Meanwhile, Kallian, assembles what’s probably more like half a nation’s army and then slays the Archdemon like it wasn’t much of a big deal… She’ll probably act like it was no big deal when she wakes up, too.”

“It… did seem a little trivial, didn’t it?” Leliana said after a bit of thought.

“Well, it will probably help keep other countries from taking advantage of Ferelden while we recover from the Blight,” Elissa pointed out, “what nation would attack a country with a tactician who ended a Civil War, and then moved on to defeat the Blight without even batting an eye?”

“She’d rarely lost her composure throughout the entire Blight,” Wynne said.

“Some of the reports are saying that seemed like less of a battle,” he said dryly, “and more like a performance… There’s also the matter with the Dalish…”

“What’s happening with the Dalish?” Leliana asked.

“They think Mythal has returned to them from the Beyond,” he answered, “and that Kalli is Mythal.”

Kallian’s family entered the room nervously, well, two of them entered the room nervously, one of them seemed to be on the brink of laughter.

“She’s alive,” he said reassuringly, “but she’s still unconscious.”

“Shianni, stop snickering,” Cyrion scolded.

“I can’t help it!” Shianni laughed, “they’re calling her the ‘ _Hero_ of Ferelden’! Do you know what she’d always told me ever since we were kids? She always told me she’d rather be a _villain_ than a hero! When she wakes up her reactions going to be _hilarious!”_

Yep, those two were _definitely_ related… sure Kallian had her whole from a different world thing going on for her, but he highly doubted that that was the only thing that made her reactions to different things abnormal.

“Why can’t I have cousins who have _normal_ reactions to things?” Soris groaned.

“Because we wouldn’t be _your_ cousins if we did,” Shianni replied.

“You know, I’ve often wondered why Kalli didn’t have normal reactions to things,” he sighed, “now I know: its a family thing.”

Though she did need to wake up, he had no idea what to tell the Orlesian Wardens… not only that, but he wasn’t sure what they should do with Anora.

***

After what Alistair had to do, Kallian had better wake up… Part of her debated planning for an expedition to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, considering that it worked for Arl Eamon, and who knew what the Archdemon did to her in its final moments. Sure, there was Morrigan’s ritual, but this was still a historical first. Who knows what else could have happened to her? She trusted Morrigan, she supposed, since Morrigan hated Alistair, and seemed incredibly desperate to save her.

Plus, even Kallian had mentioned that she didn’t know what would happen to her after she killed the Archdemon. 

Ritual or no, an Archdemon was an Old God.

Maybe if she doesn’t wake up after a week, they’ll start planning for one.

“How long do you think she’ll be out?” she asked.

“No clue, I just hope it’s not too long,” Alistair answered, “considering how long she was out after the Battle of Ostagar.”

“Her waking up in three weeks is still considerably better than never,” she replied, “but for everyone's sake, I hope it isn’t that long either… Ferelden wants to see the one who saved the day and considering what’s just happened, it’d be good for morale.”

“No one wants to see her more awake than Zevran, though,” Alistair pointed out.

“Well, I would be the same,” she hummed, “if it were you asleep.”

“There’s also the fact that he’s spent the whole Blight chasing after her,” Alistair added, “even _I_ felt bad for him.”

“I feel bad for what happened to Kalli,” she replied, “no one should have to suffer from that sort of treatment.”

“Well… Kalli’s speech about the life of an Elf in the city really struck a chord with a lot of the nobility,” Alistair pointed out, “I don’t think anyone really connected the way they were treating Elves to the life they suffered under during the Orlesian occupation.”

“Well… she does like making people think,” she replied.

***

The Superior Warden killed the Archdemon, and still lived. Though, there was a chance that it didn’t survive, as it was still asleep. Of course, they wouldn’t say anything considering the state of their other companions about the chance that it would not wake up. It was still, after all, a soft squishy fleshling.

The Painted Elf, in particular, wouldn’t appreciate their comments on the matter.

Perhaps that was why the Superior Warden was so well-loved, it was because it was a soft squishy fleshling and its mortality is what helped it bond so well with others. So, perhaps being a soft squishy fleshling was not so bad, biological functions aside, the Superior Warden seemed incapable of death, in its own way.

They themselves were once a Dwarven woman… perhaps becoming one again wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

***

He still was not sure what to tell the _Arishok_ about the Blight other that it included large swarms of Darkspawn, and a powerful _ataashi_ called an Archdemon. It was hard to tell what was part of the Blight and what wasn’t, considering that they had to end a Civil War… something that the Qun would have never allowed in the first place. Kallian had mentioned that she had the answers to most things, and he was more inclined to learn from her than he was from Alistair.

Kallian Tabris was an honorable ally… but would make for a devastatingly dangerous enemy.

He couldn’t help but remember when he’d met her… he had thought her no more than a servant pretending to be a Grey Warden, and how quickly she had proved him wrong. She was gifted in strategy and tactics and had an incredibly unique and effective fighting style. A true wolf in sheep’s clothing…

But she was a protector, not a conquerer. As long as they avoided Ferelden, the Qun would be safe from her wrath… 

He had no doubt that whatever attempts to take Ferelden they made, she would be able to thwart them…

***

Morrigan had suspiciously gone missing, but miraculously Kallian still drew breath… She remembered meeting her at Ostagar, and how she had felt thinking that she had been lost to Loghain’s treachery.

Kallian wasn’t naive enough to blindly trust others, but she seemed to trust the witch… and she still had reservations about her falling in love with the man who’d tried to kill her. Of course, she could tell that the assassin would never harm her, and would likely do anything for her. From what she had seen… he’d likely been absolutely smitten with her since long before the group had arrived at Kinloch Hold.

Being able to watch her companions grow into the people they were now was a blessing she would never forget. Watching young love sprout in the most unlikely of places during such hard times also warmed her heart… Alistair and Elissa would make a fine King and Queen, and Kallian, at least, would make a fine Teyrna… Zevran on the other hand… well, she was sure he would manage somehow.

“Any changes?” she asked.

“No,” Zevran sighed.

“Make sure to get some rest,” she replied, “she wouldn’t like it if you exhausted yourself for her.”

“I know,” Zevran replied gently trailing his fingers across the back of Kallian’s hand.

He had always treated her gently as if he were handling something precious… he had always been earnest in his love for her, and she had continually overlooked that, only seeing the fact that he had once tried to kill her. That he was a Crow, and for whom sex and romance had been a game.

But just like everyone else, he was far more than his past.

***

He couldn’t believe it: that crazy woman ended the Blight… and to think he once saw the little Pike-Twirler throwin’ her in a crate to get her past giant spiders in the Deep Roads… and run cryin’ and screamin’ from ghosts. Or maybe he was remembering wrong… he _had_ been drunk for most of their time there…

Maybe he _was_ imagining it.

He knew that she liked to take naps in crates. But he couldn’t believe that she would run crying and screaming away from anything. Especially considering she just ended a civil war and Blight without batting an eye… yeah, he was probably remembering wrong.

Seemed like something he would do.

More importantly: he should figure out where Felsi is… he wouldn’t ruin his relationship with her this time.

Especially since Kallian had helped him out during his reunion with her.

“She’ll be fine, Elf,” he commented, “she’s been through worse.”

“Of course she’ll be fine,” Zevran replied, “when has she not?”

“Alright, now yer pissing me off,” he grumbled, “I’m sorry I said anything.”

***

It’s been two days, and Kallian was still asleep… she tried to distract her fellow Trickster’s family by regaling them of tales of their travels during the Blight. She had been with her since almost the beginning of their journey, the only part she hadn’t been with them was when they’d been overrun at Ostagar.

Shianni, in particular, seemed captivated, she had told her that she had thought that she’d gotten Kallian killed. Both of them had blamed themselves for the events that happened at Kallian’s wedding. She could tell that the two of them loved each other dearly, and she supposed that was one of the reasons they were called the Fire Sisters.

She also seemed to have zero qualms with talking about all of Kallian’s embarrassing moments… how she had once called herself the ‘barrel of destiny’ when she had gotten stuck. It was like she was talking about a completely different person… Kallian had been far more playful, whimsy, and carefree in her past…

It made her remember that sometimes when Kallian had spoken of her past, she’d called herself naive as if she’d despised herself for it. Of course, now that she knew everything, she completely understood why.

She also said that Kallian had said she preferred normal people saying that she had said that ‘extravagant food can get boring fairly quickly, whereas a nice simple home-cooked meal will always hit the spot.’.

She should probably not tell Zevran that, especially considering that he was a little insecure. He didn’t say anything, but it wasn’t hard to see his possessiveness and understand why that was so. Kallian, of course, also had her own insecurities about their relationship… honestly, watching the two of them was a combination of heart-warming, entertaining, and frustrating because of how stubborn Kallian had been. 

Though, she completely understood why she had been so stubborn now.

Though, Shianni also seemed interested in her past as a bard… That’s right, in Redcliffe, Kallian had mentioned that she was forced to learn about bards because of her cousin.

“Kalli had mentioned that you were interested in bards,” she said, “why was that?”

“It just seemed like such a different lifestyle than the one we live,” Shianni replied, “well, other than Kalli and her vigilantism.”

“From what she’s said, it’s much different,” she explained, “bards have patrons they work for. Kallian is her own patron: she works for herself… Zevran thinks she has more in common with assassins, the only difference being that she doesn’t do it for money.”

“True, but there’s no courtly intrigue with what she does,” Shianni replied, “she just watches people and then decides if she wants them gone or not.”

“I suppose,” she replied, “though sometimes the courtly intrigue can get overwhelming.”

“That’s why you came to Ferelden,” Shianni recounted and she nodded, “what will you do now?”

“Oh… I don’t know,” she answered, “I’ll have to put some thought into it… though, I’d like to be here for Kallian and Zevran’s wedding.”

“I’m excited,” Shianni replied, “Kalli deserves to be happy too… though she probably doesn’t think she does.”

“Indeed,” she nodded, “and I think Zevran makes her very happy.”

“I think he does too,” Shianni grinned.

***

He was beginning to wonder if his cousin could even be killed, considering the number of things she’d apparently been subject to the past year… He knew his cousin was strong, and after their encounter with Vaughan, he’d also known that she was a swift and efficient killer… but the amount she’s been through this entire year? Defending a village? Finding the Ashes of Andraste? Ending a Werewolf curse? Saving the Circle Tower?

He was ashamed of himself… part of him had resented her for what she had gained after all the hardships the Alienage had been through —what _he_ had been through— since she’d left… and then to come back with the future king and queen? Being made a noble? She had been given a position of power and got to travel the country, whereas he had to endure the rough treatment and hatred of the Alienage.

Yes, she’d found someone she loved, and who truly loved her in return, but he had been _hired_ to kill her. She had been blamed for the death of the King, and was in a constant fight for her life as she attempted to unite a country… he hadn’t heard or considered how bad it was outside of the Alienage.

He supposed… he had always been jealous of her. Jealous of what she could do, of what she had… but somewhere down the line, he guessed that he forgot that she had worked her ass off for everything. Nothing had just been handed to her, no, she worked hard for all of it.

***

Alistair had given her, Uncle Cyrion, and Soris their own rooms in the Royal Palace. Some of the servants eagerly asked for stories about Kallian, wanting to know more about the woman who’d saved their country… she decided not to tell anyone else about Kallian’s embarrassing past and instead told them about her vigilantism and why they were the Fire Sisters.

According to Alistair, her cousin had her skull cracked and had been drifting in and out of consciousness for three weeks after the Battle of Ostagar.

She’d better not be out for that long again.

The entirety of Ferelden was getting restless.

Though, it did give her time to learn more about Kallian’s companions… and the man who’d stolen her heart.

Honestly, the more she heard about him, the less she understood how he had managed to win her over. Kallian preferred normal men, and Zevran was anything but normal. He was both foreign and an assassin… exotic, extravagant, and fancy with more than a dash of danger…

She should grill her about it later.

Both Alistair and Elissa seemed interested in learning about the kind of lives they’d lived in the Alienage, and Uncle Cyrion humored them. Their faces told her that they weren’t going to allow them to live like this anymore. Likely why they were so adamant on giving Kallian Gwaren… They’d heard from her how hard life was, and Kallian’s reactions to their hard life had struck them as odd. She’d spoken of riots and such as if they were normal occurrences, because to them, they were.

***

After a bit of reflection, he realized that Morrigan had loved her too, so there was no way that the Witch had lied.

Especially considering that Morrigan was the one who had warned him that if he wasn’t careful, he’d lose her.

And gave him a hint on how to save her.

Morrigan had known that his Heart had no longer wished to live, and though she had a way to save her, as she was, she’d likely realized it would be useless unless she had a reason to live.

“Wake up, stupid,” Shianni groaned, “how can I make fun of you if you’re asleep?”

“I do not think that that will make her wake up faster… in fact, I think that that would make her sleep longer,” he sighed, “and I would rather she did not.”

“I just hope she’s not out for three weeks,” Soris replied.

“I do as well,” he replied playing with a few strands of scarlet hair.

Ahh, he loved the way her hair contrasted against her almost pale skin. It was a delectable meeting of innocence and sin… and an allusion to the monster that lay within.

“You really love her, don’t you?” Cyrion asked.

“Well… naturally,” he replied, “how could I not?”

“He’s probably the only one capable of handling her more malicious side too,” Soris commented.

“Well, he _is_ an assassin… or at least was,” Shianni replied.

That’s right… after he marries her, he’ll become a Teyrn. Which means, he would be changing occupations from assassin to noble. He could practically hear her laughter over how hilarious that was… He wished he could actually hear her laughter.

“Ah, that’s right,” he recounted, “she said that you had made it your life’s goal to turn her into a fairy?”

“Isn’t she like one?” Shianni replied, “she always moves as though she’s gliding on air, and she can also seemingly disappear into thin air… and the way she jumps from place to place makes it look like she’s flying… flitting from one destination to the next.”

“True,” he replied, “it is rather fitting.”

“Plus she led men astray,” Shianni added, “which was another thing that made her faerie-like.”

Though, he also remembered when she had fallen from the tree. She had looked like she was floating, entrancingly ephemeral. Not only that, but he had thought of her as a sinful temptress, which was laughable considering that he was supposedly the master of seduction between the two as well as her lack of experience.

“We’ll be back tomorrow,” Cyrion said standing up, “please continue watching over her.”

“Happily,” he replied as the three left.

He caressed the face of his future wife and hoped that she would be prepared for him when she woke up because they had a lot of catching up to do. 

“Hurry and wake up, _mi amore_ ,” he sighed, “I miss your voice.”

Of course, there was no answer, no stirring, just silence as she continued to sleep peacefully.

He wasn’t the only one waiting for her to wake up, the whole of Ferelden was…

Ahh, such a troublesome woman he had fallen in love with… wild, and uncontrollable, always pushing forwards, selflessly sacrificing herself for others. Always making him wait, always making him chase after her… but that was part of what he loved about her. He loved that she was defiant, that she did what she thought was right and never questioned herself. She was her own master, and that was part of what had drawn him to her.

Apparently, he had fallen asleep at some point and woke up to gentle fingers carding through his hair. It was a familiar feeling, one he rather enjoyed, especially if the owner of said fingers belonged to who he thought they did. He opened his eyes, and met eyes full of warmth, love and adoration looking back at him.

“Good morning, love,” Kallian smiled, “w—”

He cut her off, much like he’s done once before. Pinning her down onto the bed, desperately kissing her, putting as much emotion as he possibly could behind it. Telling her how worried he had been, how he missed her, how he grateful he was that she’d woken up, how he loved her, how important she was to him. 

And this time, she returned his kiss wrapping her arms around him, accepting the feelings that he was trying to convey to her while conveying to him her own.

“That should be my line, _mi bella gattina_ ,” he replied breaking the kiss, “it’s been three days.”

“Whoa, just three?” Kallian asked in surprise, “I thought it’d have been like a week, or half a month or something.”

“I am rather glad that you woke up after three days, then,” he replied.

“I missed you,” Kallian said caressing the side of his face.

“I missed you as well, _mi amore_ ,” he replied as she pulled him in for a kiss that he happily returned.

“Do we have enough time before people show up?” Kallian asked breathlessly.

“Probably not,” he sighed.

“Then we should probably hold off,” Kallian sighed, “so, does your proposal still stand?”

“Do you doubt me?” 

“No, it’s just two Elves, one a Grey Warden and the daughter of an Elven servant, and the other an assassin and the son of a whore becoming Ferelden nobles,” Kallian laughed, “well… assuming Alistair and Elissa haven’t changed plans. Because I’d totally be okay with it if they did.”

“As far as I’m aware,” he replied wryly, “they have not.”

“Ah, well,” Kallian sighed, “at least we’ll suffer through it together then.”

“Well, what would you like, _mi amore?_ ” he asked.

“Your children,” Kallian replied with zero hesitation, “though… Grey Wardens have a hard time with pregnancy…”

“I think we can manage that… and that just means we just have to keep trying,” he grinned and there was a knock at the door before a servant gently opened it and upon seeing her awake, immediately took off running, causing him to sigh, “I can’t wait until I can have you to myself.”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Kallian chuckled before pulling him in for a kiss.

He thanked the Maker, which his Heart didn’t care about. He thanked Alistair for going through with the ritual. He thanked Elissa for talking him into it. And he thanked Morrigan for loving her enough to want to preserve her life just as much as all of them had.

***

Three days, huh?

Part of her wondered what about the whole ordeal knocked her out for so long… was it exhaustion and fatigue? Or was it something… more? Perhaps Avernus would know something. Though there was nothing about the ritual she could tell him, considering that it was something all done behind her back, and she actually had no clue what happened, other than that Alistair had slept with Morrigan. Of course, it’s not like she would tell him anything even if she could… Maybe she shouldn’t consult Avernus about it, though she’ll have to pay him a visit with the blood that Alistair mother fucking better have collected eventually… This would probably go easier if she could figure out how to make a microscope, which was highly unlikely.

Wait… why did Alistair have to sleep with Morrigan?

…Oh, well, she was officially self-appointing herself as Morrigan’s child’s godmother, and there was nothing she could do about it because she wasn’t here.

She wished the others would hurry up and come say their ‘hello’s, and then leave… she hadn’t ever thought that she’d be the kind of person with a high sex drive, but here she was. She couldn’t help it, she loved how connected she felt with him at that moment, probably because they were _literally_ connected. But it was more than a physical connection, far more. It was an overwhelming sensation of pure bliss, derived from being so wholly and completely connected to the man she loved.

And the man she loved just so happened to have infected her with his high sex drive.

The door opened again, and in walked everyone.

“Ah, my little girl,” Cyrion smiled and she moved to hug him, “it’s good to see you awake.”

“It’s good to be awake,” she replied returning his smile, “well, until politics start, anyway.”

“About time you woke up,” Shianni said, “oh great Hero of Ferelden.”

“Ew,” she cringed, “please don’t tell me that’s what people are calling me.”

“It is,” Shianni replied gleefully, “you’re now an officially recognized hero.”

“Well… I suppose I did win,” she sighed.

“Do you hate being a hero that much?” Leliana asked.

“I hate that there was a _need_ for a hero,” she answered, “heroes only rise because the world deems a need for them… and the world only deems a need for them during tragedy.”

“Literally no one else sees it like that,” Shianni replied flatly, “so let the people have their damn hero you dumb cat.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve last been treated like this,” she replied, “how nostalgic.”

“Only you would think being insulted is nostalgic,” Soris sighed.

“So, did I miss the coronation and wedding?” she asked.

“No, we were holding off on planning it until you woke up,” Elissa replied, “though we’ll let you get your bearings first.”

“Thanks,” she replied with a sigh.

“Now then, we have something important to discuss with Zevran and Kallian,” Alistair said, “so if you could give us a moment?”

“Several moments,” Zevran replied, “as I would like to spend some alone time with my future wife.”

“Lewd,” Shianni grinned coquettishly as Oghren giggled.

“No comment,” she replied blankly, “but Alistair and Elissa need to discuss something important, probably about the coronation and wedding.”

“Then, we’ll get out of your hair now,” Wynne replied.

“So?” she asked after they all left.

“Two things,” Alistair replied, “first, what should we tell the Orlesian Wardens? They have questions about how you survived.”

“Love,” she replied, “it can only be the power of love!”

“…I’ll just say that it’s a mystery and play dumb,” Alistair replied, “so you should too.”

“Fine,” she sighed, “so, second?”

“What should we do with Anora?” Elissa asked.

“Assassinate her,” Zevran replied.

“This isn’t Antiva,” Alistair replied dryly, “we don’t just assassinate each other.”

“No, he’s right,” she replied shaking her head, “if we banish her, she could gather refugees and come back to retake the country and there are likely a considerable amount of refugees. Of course, no one will appreciate us just straight up executing her… so banish her, and then have her assassinated, would be my suggestion.”

“Wipe that smug look off your face,” Alistair grumbled at Zevran, “and I suppose I can see the logic in that.”

“Speaking of,” Zevran replied, “would you be interested in hiring my services? As long as it won’t take me too far from home I’m game for anything.”

That statement just filled her to the brim with the warm and fuzzies…

“I’m guessing by ‘home’,” Alistair replied, “you mean Kalli, right?”

“Naturally,” Zevran grinned.

The warm and fuzzies were now overflowing… ‘home’. 

He had called her his ‘home’… he thought of her as his home.

She was his home.

He was her home too, she felt the safest, most comfortable, and happiest at his side.

“I suppose we’ll need a Spymaster,” Elissa remarked, “considering how we took the crown.”

“True,” Alistair nodded, “but he failed to kill an inexperienced Kalli.”

“As did the Archdemon,” Zevran retorted, “and you were a Warden for far longer than she, yes?”

“Half a year,” she supplied.

“And I am not the first Crow she has outwitted,” Zevran added, “did you know that they spent four years trying to find her?”

“I avoided them because I thought they wanted to kill me or something,” she nodded, “apparently, it was the or something: they wanted to recruit me.”

“Okay, we’re leaving then,” Alistair sighed, “I don’t feel like listening to you two anymore.”

“It’s good to see you awake,” Elissa waved as they left.

She heard the click of a lock before she found herself being picked up and thrown back onto the bed.

“So impatient,” she sighed as greedy hands roughly tugged at her clothes.

“I have waited three days, _mi bella gattina,”_ Zevran replied huskily, “three days wondering when you would next wake, missing your taste, your eyes, your touch, and your voice… can you blame me?”

“No,” she replied moving her head to grant him more access to her neck, “so help me make sure I’m still alive.”

“I’ll do more than that,” Zevran replied with a coquettish grin.

Life’s probably going to get a lot more stressful from now on, even more so than during the Blight, which was a strange thought…

At the beginning of the Blight, she had lost everything… 

But the good thing about losing everything was that you now had nothing to lose, and everything to gain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to explore a lot of different things with this fic. 
> 
> Fun fact: Kalli being like a cat wasn't actually planned from the beginning. I had her wanting to regain her parkour skills but knew that at that young an age there was no way she wouldn't mess up now and again. Which is ultimately why I had her falling into crates and barrels when misjudging distances or flat out failing a jump. And then a friend sent me a picture of a lion chillin' in a cardboard box, and I was like 'omg that's right, cats love enclosed spaces' and decided to roll with it.
> 
> I wanted to explore the oppression that Elves living in a city would have faced, and how many of them wouldn’t even know how to fight because of how easily they could be cut down, and to that end I also had Kallian completely unable to wear armor, because it wasn’t something she was allowed to wear in her past. The reason I made her a _wushu_ practitioner, was because I knew that if she didn’t know how to evade like a beast she wouldn’t be able to survive very long since without armor she’d be at a major disadvantage. I wanted to explore a way for her to be able to overcome that hurdle and still be able to pull her own weight.
> 
> Since Elves in the Alienage would probably avoid fighting in an attempt to avoid certain death, I thought it was imperative that she didn’t know how to fight alongside others as it was something that she’d never experienced before in either lifetimes. Not only that but since she grew up sheltered in the Alienage it was highly unlikely that she had seen a mage cast a spell on purpose since no Elf wanted the Templars to think that they were willingly hiding a mage and risk getting both the mage and themselves cut down right then and there.
> 
> There was also the fact that Elves who stood out amongst Humans didn’t have very long lifespans, so she was really thrown off-kilter when everyone was turning to her for instruction. It was something that went against everything an Elf born in the city would have been taught in an attempt to ensure they didn’t die stupidly. That was another dilemma I wanted to play around with. Humans’ll always see her race before her accomplishments.
> 
> I wanted to capture how important community was to all of them, how they lived in poverty, how they were discriminated against, and what kind of life they'd likely live because of all of that.
> 
> Showing how she saw everything as they truly were was another thing I wanted to try to capture. How genocidal the Chantry was, and all that jazz. I also wanted to explore the relationship between Kalli and her family.
> 
> Kalli’s trauma, I figured, was something that would stick with her for a long time. There was just no way she could be like ‘yep, that was a thing that happened but errythang’s all hunky dory now’. Mental disorders are a life-long struggle, she’s working on it.
> 
> As for Zevran’s possessiveness, well, he grew up in an environment where everything he cared for was taken away from him. So he’d be a little weird about it for a bit since he’s trying to figure things out. The dude just got freedom, he’s still figuring himself out. They’re both new to the changes happening in their lives, and they’re both growing together as individuals and a couple.
> 
> Basically: I wanted to explore some of the more realistic sides of things.
> 
> I also thought that the sloth demon making her dream of Duncan was dumb considering she hated the man and how she’d been forced into becoming a Warden. In that scenario she’d just kill him immediately.
> 
> Her finding out how to end the Blight, I felt, was something in-line with her personality. Since she isn’t the type who would blindly follow orders without questioning things, she’d wonder why the fuck she had been forced to drink Darkspawn blood if all it did was make her more resistant to the Taint, and give her the ability to sense Darkspawn, as to her, that was something that seemed so asinine that it didn’t make sense. I also wondered what it’d feel like for a Warden to sense Darkspawn. Could not find anything so I vaguely made something up.
> 
> Exploring other uses for blood magic was something that interested me a bit as well, so I thought I would do just that.
> 
> Another thing I wanted to play around with was Alistair’s transition from being unsure of himself and leaving decisions up to other people to him becoming more confident in his own abilities, and how he’d come to make a good king.
> 
> I hope I was able to capture all of the above points well, and I hope that you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> And of course this will be continued: a little of DA2 and a lot of Inquis.
> 
> Side note: There's going to be another series that are ideas I had with the theme of Kalli being like a cat. I'll probably call it 'Other Tales of a Cat and a Crow'.


End file.
